Just a Pinch of Pixie Dust
by partbritishtowhead
Summary: I don't care how charming he may appear to the others; I don't trust that boy. Peter Pan had trouble written all over him from the start...Too bad my mother is making me date him. Peter/Wendy Modern version! R
1. The Boy on the Bus

I sat alone on the nearly vacant bus, heading home from a visit to the movies with my friends. The sky outside the windows was unusually black and the air reeked of something unnatural. The lights within the bus were dim and flickering, the soft white noise that emitted from the bulbs disturbed the silence.

A shadow danced across the floor and passed over my face. I looked up quickly, slightly alarmed. I relaxed almost at once. A thin, slightly handsome boy gave me an impish grin before sitting down in the seat across from me. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said silkily, in a tone that let me know that he indeed had been trying to scare me. There was something about him that seemed familiar. I wondered if I had seen his face before, though for some reason he just seemed like a reminiscent of a dream.

"Do I know you?" he added, his fingers playing with the toothpick protruding from his lips.

"No," I said, frowning. "I don't usually make a habit of talking to strange boys on the bus."

A smile tugged at his mouth. "Well, then," he said, "I'm Peter Pan."

"Wendy," I replied evenly. There was no way I was giving my last name to some random creep at midnight.

He leaned forward into the light. I could see that his red-brown hair was a mess and his eyes were wide and green. It was strange, for although I had the feeling he was several years older than me, something about him seemed so…_young. _

"It's nice meeting you, Wendy," he told me, his eyes unblinking.

Okay, this guy was _really _starting to freak me out. The next time the bus stopped, I was leaving. As if to answer my wishes, the bus shuttered to a stop. I rose quickly. "Well," I said, a little too cheerfully, "that's my stop."

"How extraordinary," said Peter Pan with a small smirk as he stood up, "it's mine too."

Well, then.

"Wait," I said, scrunching up my face in a confused kind of way. "I think I was mistaken…_My_ stop is the next one. I knew the ride hadn't been quite long enough…I haven't slept much lately and the times get confusing."

"How tragic," said Peter, never taking his eyes off of mine. "If you'd like, I'll walk you home and make sure you don't fall asleep in the middle of the road."

Drat, this leech was unrelenting.

"No, really I'm fine," I assured him. "I think I'll manage. Now, you might want to get off before the bus takes off ag-" As if on cue, the bus started off down the road.

"What bad luck," Peter declared, looking quite cheerful. "I guess I'll have to get off at the next stop."

How extremely convenient.

I sat back down on the dirty, cushioned bench. Peter remained standing, holding onto the handrail that ran along the length of the ceiling. He was watching me with an unfathomable look on his face. "Where are you from? If I didn't know any better I'd say you sounded a little like a Brit-"

"London," I replied, cutting him off. "I moved here five years ago."

"Is that so?" he asked, frowning slightly. "I've been there a couple of times."

Maybe that's where I've seen him from.

"How old are you?" Peter asked me, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Would you like to know where I live and what my social security number is too?" I asked, not caring how rude I sounded.

His eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hair. "Perhaps a credit card number too?" He cracked a smile. I, however, did not.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind if I sat closer to the driver," I told him icily, standing up. "It was a pleasure talking to you."

"By all means," he said, an irritating smile still curling at his mouth as he allowed me to pass him. Just as I was making my way to the front of the bus, I suddenly realized he was following me. I spun around and looked him in the eye.

"You are _so _annoying!" I told him furiously. "Can't you take a hint? I _don't _want to talk to you!"

The bus came to a halt. Peter Pan's grin slid from his face. "This is my stop, remember?"

I burned in embarrassment as he slowly passed me to thank the driver. Just as he was walking down the steps, he looked over his shoulder and said casually, "It was a pleasure talking to me, huh? _Right. _I suggest you make your feelings known for future conversations, Wendy. Excuse me, I was only trying to pass the time." He stepped out onto the curb, the door closing behind him.

"Wait," I told the bus driver. "I need to get off here." He opened the door again and I followed after the strange stalker boy. "Peter!" I called, watching his dark figure walking rapidly down the dimly lit sidewalk. "Peter, wait!"

The boy stopped, adjusting his black leather jacket. He slowly turned around and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for me to catch up with him. "What?" he asked wearily, sounding annoyed.

"I'm sorry," I told him earnestly. "I just…I just thought you were going to rape me or something."

"Clearly," he seethed, turning around to keep walking.

"I said I was sorry!" I called after him. He didn't even stop. "Fine!" I shouted. "Be stubborn! You can't blame me for being cautious on a New York City bus!" I suddenly became aware that I was hollering like a lunatic in the dead of night. Who knew what kind of danger could be lurking nearby? I looked around, seeing absolutely no one in any direction. There weren't even any cars out in the street. And here I was thinking this place was supposed to be a city that never sleeps.

What a lie that was.

The street light above me flickered. I looked warily up at it, watching the moths bumping into bulb. That was when the light cut out, leaving me in total darkness.

_Don't panic, don't panic, don't-_

Something streaked pass my leg.

_PANIC._

I screamed bloody murder and took off running, my foot colliding with something soft and hairy. Of course, that made me scream even more and the only thing that stifled the astounding noise escaping my lips was the cold, dirty concrete. If I had thought it was dark before, my closed eyelids proved I was wrong as I fell out of consciousness. The last thing I heard were the pounding footsteps headed in my direction and the dull buzz of the light turning back on.

--

**A/N: Ok so this is my first Peter Pan fanfic. Tell me what you think. **


	2. Peter's Homicidal Cat

"Are you alright?" a voice asked, sounding worried.

I clutched my forehead with one sweaty hand. "Yeah, I think so," I mumbled.

"I wasn't talking to _you_," the voice replied, disgusted.

I opened my eyes to see Peter Pan holding a small cat with a yellow collar and bell in his arms. The cat was peering at me with distrustful eyes, her tail swishing angrily.

"Gee thanks," I muttered, sitting up. The blood rushed to my head and I felt extremely dizzy.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Peter snapped. "It took me ages to get this poor animal out from under that dumpster. You've obviously traumatized the little kitty."

"Yeah, well my _brain_ got a little traumatized in the process," I retorted angrily, my head throbbing. "Stupid cat," I added for good measure.

"I wonder how she got all the way out here," Peter wondered allowed, stroking the little freak of nature.

"Who cares?" I replied. "Tie her up in a burlap sack and throw her out in the road." I held out my hand for him to help me up. Peter merely stared at my hand, scratching his new pet behind the ears. Knowing I wouldn't be getting any assistance from him, I helped_ myself_ up thank you very much.

I stooped down and picked up my purse, which had scattered various items along the sidewalk. I walked along, gathering my mini-flashlight, hairbrush, wallet, compact mirror and-I bashed my head into Peter's just as he was bending down to pick up a tube of lipstick. I gave him a dirty look.

"What?" he questioned innocently, rubbing his forehead with the one hand holding the lipstick, the other which was laden with the cat. "It's my color."

I snatched the lipstick from his fingers and tossed it into my purse, turning to march back down the sidewalk towards my mother's apartment. I say "my mother's" apartment because five years ago, my parents divorced. My mother, Mary Darling, took my brothers and I here to New York to start a new life away from my father's obsessions over work and nasty tendencies to drink too much. Now I was stuck with my seven and twelve-year-old brothers Michael and John in a crowded city where hardly anyone knew my name.

"I'd say 'thank you' if you had actually done anything to help me," I told Peter Pan over my shoulder.

"I would have said, 'your welcome' if that had been the case," Peter replied from behind me. I swear he was sticking his tongue at me behind my back. I glanced over my shoulder suspiciously to see him with an innocent grin on his face. He set the cat down and it walked off a ways to sit and lick its paw. Peter, meanwhile, proceeded to follow me.

"Ugh, not this again," I sighed.

"I wouldn't have to follow you if you slowed down long enough to let me walk alongside you," Peter stated smartly with his hands in his pockets. "C'mon, Wendy, let me walk you home. I feel it's my duty to do so considering you nearly died by tripping over my cat."

I stopped. "That was _your _cat?"

"Well of course, dummy," he replied condescendingly. "Why do you think I was wondering how she got all the way out here? Usually she only goes as far as the roof."

I looked at the little Spawn of Satan watching me in the corner (and I mean the cat, not Peter). "What's her name?"

"Oh that's just Tinkerbell," Peter replied fondly. "She's my loyal companion."

I walked towards her, holding my hand out. "Here, kitty, kitty." She streaked forward and slashed out at my hand. I let out a string of curses I shan't repeat as I withdrew my hand and danced around in pain. Blood was dripping out from between my knuckles, drops of red landing on the dusty pavement.

"I thought she was your loyal companion!" I cried, sucking on my knuckles.

"She is! I never said she was nice to anyone else!" Peter exclaimed, holding up his hands in defense. "I could have told you not to pet her!"

"Yeah, but you _didn't_," I pointed out, seeing that my cat scratch was still bleeding. "Look at me, I'm dying!"

"Oh stop it, you're not dying," Peter snapped. "C'mon, let's go."

"I'm killing that cat next time I see it," I told him seriously.

"Trust me," he replied, "you won't. Once I take you home you'll never have to see me again."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "You promise?"

"I swear on my mother's face," he said sincerely, putting a hand over where (I assume) his heart was supposed to be.

"Fine," I said. "Though I don't see why you're so insistent…unless you plan to rob me in the near future."

"I'm thinking about it," he said, putting an arm around my shoulder.

"Don't touch me."

He slid his arm off instantly. "That's what I thought."

We continued walking in silence. Unnerved by the eerie stillness, I asked, "So, where are _you _from? Have you been in New York forever?"

Peter Pan shook his head, his coppery-brown hair falling into his eyes. "Can't say I have."

"Where's your hometown then?"

He smiled and said, "Second street to the right, and straight on 'til morning."

"You live a ways off then, huh?" I asked, somewhat sympathetically. "I know how that feels."

"You have no idea," he murmured, giving me a meaningful look that I couldn't place. We continued to walk a ways in silence.

"You live with your parents?" I asked, annoyed that I had to keep the conversation going with the irritating boy who previously wouldn't shut up on the bus.

"No…," he said carefully. "I just live with a couple of friends."

"Oh…Are you in college or something?" I asked, frowning. I didn't think he was that much older than me.

"Nope, never went to college," he said sheepishly.

My eyes widened. He couldn't be _that _old. "You aren't secretly a fifty-year-old pedophile, are you?" I asked suspiciously.

He grinned. "Maybe." He then frowned at me and asked, "How old do I look?"

"Seventeen or so," I replied.

"There you go, then," he offered.

Oh. No wonder he'd never been to college.

We came to a stop beneath a brick foyer. "This is my building," I told him. "You can leave now."

"Not even a 'thank you'?" he questioned, sounding hurt.

"Goodnight, Peter Pan."

--

**A/N: Please tell me what you all think. Reviews make me feel special : D**


	3. Meeting My Mother

Mother was _not _pleased when I came home extremely late and she especially wasn't pleased when I brought a boy home with me. (Yes, Peter followed me all the way to my door. His excuse was that he wanted to make sure I didn't run into anymore cats on the way up).

"Who is this?" she demanded, peering at Peter as if he was some kind of insect. "Wendy, you _told_ me you would be with Kim and Zandra…not with some…some…"

"Irresistibly handsome young man?" Peter offered a little too quickly.

"Well, yes!" Mother exclaimed, flicking her hand at me.

"Mum, I _was _with Kim and Zandra. I met Peter on the bus," I tried to explain. "And he wouldn't leave me alone!"

"That's even worse!" she cried, throwing her hands dramatically up in the air. "Are you telling me you don't even know who this person _is_? Besides, it's nearly one in the morning! You told me you'd be back around midnight."

This was when Peter stepped in. "You misunderstood, miss. You see, we _did _meet on the bus but it was only after Wendy had a nasty fall that I took it upon myself to make sure she made it home safely. I apologize if I've inconvenienced you." He bowed his head sincerely.

My mother lowered her hands. "Is this true, Wendy?"

"Well, yes but-," I started.

"The boy's a hero then!" she exclaimed. "Do come in. Peter, was it? Do you like sugar in your tea? Oh, I suppose you drink coffee, don't you? Right then, come on. Don't be shy."

I couldn't believe this. My _own _mother was inviting this random _scoundrel _into our apartment? What on earth was wrong with everyone today? Besides, it was pretty much Peter's fault that I fell in the first place! It was _his_ cat that nearly killed me!

"Tea's fine Mrs.-?" Peter trailed off questioningly.

"Darling," my mother replied. "Though you can leave off the Mrs. part. I'm no longer married." She might no longer be married but she still kept my father's last name. I think it's because she got so used to it. "You can call me Mary, love."

"Well, thank you very much Mary. This is a fine apartment you have here," Peter complimented, looking around. He wasn't lying; I always made sure my home was clean because I never liked things messy. Which was one reason why I left London; my father was a complete slob.

"You should say that to my daughter," said my mother. "She does all the cleaning. Isn't she a wonderful girl?" She was beaming at me. I knew where she was going with this…She obviously wanted me to date the snobby boy that was standing in my living room. I made a face and turned my back on them both to look out the window.

"Yes she's certainly…," Peter said slowly, trying to find the words to describe me, "….interesting."

That bastard.

My mother didn't seem to notice that Peter wasn't giving me a compliment because she added another sugar cube to his tea before handing it to him. "Are you hungry, Peter? I could heat something up for you if you'd like…"

"Oh," replied Peter, looking thoughtful. He glanced at me. I gave him the "dead" signal. He broke out in a big smile. "Why, I would _love _something to eat Mary."

Oh, I hate him.

"How about a hot pocket?" Mother suggested.

"Throw in a frozen burrito and you've made a new best friend," Peter replied cheerfully. "Please," he added.

"Oh, Wendy! The people you meet on the bus! I love this boy," Mother declared.

"At least one of us does," I muttered under my breath, earning another grin from Peter as my mother went back into the kitchen. "You're supposed to have left by now," I hissed to Peter. "Why are you still here?"

"I can't say no to free food," Peter whispered back.

Mother came back into the living room and we both plastered fake smiles on our faces for her benefit. She settled herself on the couch and said, "So, Peter…Do you think we'll be seeing more of you?"

"Remember your promise," I muttered just as Peter said loudly, "Well, of course!"

I shot him an incredulous glare. "You swore on your mother's face!"

His smile widened as he said through his gritted teeth, "Good thing I don't have a mother then, huh?"

"Oh, you're breaking our hearts," I snapped sarcastically.

"What are you two whispering about?" my mother asked in a sweet voice, clearly thrilled by our whisper war.

We both stopped instantly.

"Oh…," said Peter, recovering for me. "I was just trying to convince your darling Wendy to go on a date with me. Unfortunately, she says she has too busy of a schedule to pencil me in."

I was nodding along with him until I comprehended what he said.

_What? _

Realizing I needed to say that aloud I shouted, _"What?" _

"What indeed!" my mother cried. "This is an outrage, Wendy! How can you turn such a nice boy down?"

"He's not…He didn't…I…," I spluttered. "He never asked me out!"

My mother opened her mouth to argue.

Peter held up a hand to stop her. "No, it's alright Mary. I can see that Wendy isn't interested in me. She obviously is too embarrassed to admit that someone as lowly as me would ask her out on a date."

"Too embarrassed?" I repeated. "What's embarrassing is you're doing this in front of my mother! What's embarrassing is you're pulling these ridiculous charades and making me out to be the bad guy when you-"

_"Wendy Darling!"_ my mother snapped. "I know I'm not the one who taught you those terrible manners!"

"He's a liar!" I told her, furious.

"Jeez, if you didn't want to go out with me you could have said it a little nicer," said Peter, holding up his hands in defense just as the microwave went off. Peter stood up. "Forgive me, Mary, for causing such a ruckus. And Wendy, I'm sorry as well for having taken up so much of your time." He turned towards the door.

"Wendy," my mother said softly, looking extremely disappointed in me.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't believe I was going to do this. "No, Peter, wait."

He hesitated, his hand outstretched towards the door.

I glanced at my mother, my stomach feeling sick. There was such a hopeful look on her face that I couldn't bear to hurt her; it was so rare that she smiled. I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms as I said, "How about tomorrow night?"

Peter turned back towards me, an annoying smirk lighting up his face. My mother mistook this for a smile. "You're an angel, Wendy."

Oh that crafty, obnoxious bastard.

--

**A/N: Haha, just so everyone knows, Peter is only doing this to Wendy because he has taken satisfaction in annoying her. Payback, I suppose, for Wendy having shouted at him on the bus. **


	4. Swears, Declares, and Phone Calls

"Look, Wendy! I'm a pirate!" a determined voice shouted as something heavy bounced on my bed.

I groaned and rolled over, not pleased about my rude wake-up call early on a Saturday morning. "That's great, Michael. Now why don't you be a pirate somewhere else, huh?" Michael, my lively seven-year-old bother was jumping on my bed, eye patch and all. John, my other brother, was sitting cross-legged nearby on his own bed, peering at us thoughtfully through his thick glasses.

"Arrr, matey!" Michael growled as he tried to cut out my heart with the hook of a clothes hanger.

I scowled at him. "There aren't any pirates in New York, Michael."

"So I'll be the first!" he declared, leaping off the bed and pretending to swordfight with an invisible opponent.

"We stayed up watching _Pirates of the Caribbean_ in mum's room," John explained, rolling his eyes.

"Mum let you stay up late?" I questioned, surprised. Now that I thought about it, I didn't recall seeing my brothers in their beds when I retired to my own last night.

"She was too busy with you and your _boyfriend _to notice us," John sneered as Michael made annoying kissing noises.

"I don't suppose you're talking about _Peter Pan_ are you?" I hissed, my eyes flashing. "That…that…_boy _is by no means my-"

_"Boyfriend! Boyfriend! Wendy's got a boyfriend!" _Michael and John chorused, dancing around and easily avoiding my snatching reach. I swear I was going to pommel both their faces in before breakfast.

"He's not!" I denied furiously.

"That's not what it sounded like last night," Michael replied smoothly. His voice suddenly became high and girly (and not at all Peter-like) as he imitated, _"Oh Wendy, you're such an angel!" _

I leapt off the bed and tackled him, locking the little blondish monster in my arms. He started squealing like a pig, trying to worm his way out. I pushed him flat on his belly, kneeing him in the back. "Do ye surrender yeh yellow-bellied blowfish?" I snarled in the best pirate voice I could muster.

_"NO! A PIRATE NEVER SURRENDERS!" _Michael bellowed at the top of his lungs. John started laughing at our apparent stupidity, making me look up to give him the stink-eye.

Turning back to my victim I exclaimed, "Then yer walkin' the plank!" I grabbed Michael up by the collar of his pajama top and shook him like a dog.

This was when my littlest brother looked at me as if I had grown an extra head. "What are you _talking _about? We don't have a plank! Now let me go."

Well so much for being pirates.

Frowning, I let go of Michael and looked over at the three small beds cramped together in our shared room. Bed sheets were torn back and messy and all of our pillows were lying on the floor. "Alright then, Cap'n Jack," I snapped at Michael. "Clean up this mess!" Michael took one look at me before fleeing out into the hallway. I sighed and glanced at my remaining brother. "John?" I prompted hopefully.

"I'm with him!" John declared, chasing after Michael.

Muttering, I started cleaning up the room. Just as I was straightening the elaborate blue-and-gold patterned cushions on the window seat, my mother called my name from the doorway.

"Wendy, you're far past the age that you deserve your own room, aren't you?" She sighed as she added, "We need a bigger apartment."

I glanced at her before sitting down on John's bed, avoiding a large spaghetti stain. "No mum, I'm alright," I insisted, giving her a comforting smile. "I like John's snoring and Michael makes a decent alarm clock."

"You're sixteen years old," she reminded me. "Surely you don't want to be stuck with your brothers forever?"

"Oh, it's not all that bad," I assured her just as I caught wind of something really smelly. I wrinkled my nose as the foul stench clawed its way through my nostrils. I looked down and saw a pair of Michael's shoes.

Oh.

Maybe I was just kidding myself.

Before I could ponder this further, my cell phone went off somewhere in my room. "Excuse me, mum, I need to take this." (Cliché, I know, but it sure made me feel important). I flipped open my phone and said hello as my mother retreated from my bedroom.

"Good morning," a dark voice announced smugly.

_"You," _I hissed, my eyes narrowing instantly. _"How did you get this number?" _

"You _gave _it to me, remember?" Peter Pan told me softly. "You know, before I left your charming abode?"

"Why are you whispering?" I asked, hushing my voice to match his.

"Why are _you _whispering?"

Well, I had no answer to that.

_"Wendy! Breakfast!" _my mother's voice shouted from the kitchen. "Hurry up…before your cereal gets warm…or something…"

I let out an annoyed huff as I snapped an "I-need-to-go" into the phone.

"You're not even going to ask why I called?" Peter demanded, sounding disappointed.

"Either make it quick or I'm hanging up," I told him impatiently.

"I'm coming to get you at noon," he told me seriously.

"Is that a threat?" I growled.

I could hear him laughing on the other side of the phone. "Probably, now that I think about it," he replied. "But you know what I mean…We have a date today."

"You're not serious are you?" I groaned. "I thought you did that just to annoy me."

"I did."

"And?"

"I'm not done yet."

"But…," I complained.

"Say what you'd like, Wendy, but I'm still coming to your apartment in about four hours. How about this, if you don't have a good time, I'll never go out with you again. Does that sound fair?"

"I remember an agreement sounding a lot like that in which _you broke,_" I hissed to Peter angrily.

_"Wendy!" _my mother hollered.

"You made me swear on my mother's face," Peter reminded me. "Seeing as I don't currently have a mother, I can break whatever promises I make on her lack of a face. Maybe you should pick something to swear on that actually exists next time."

"Fine, swear on your own face," I snapped, desperate to get off the phone.

"You pose an interesting bargain."

_"WENDY!" _bellowed an angry voice.

"This is ridiculous! I shouldn't have to make any deals with you at all. If I don't have fun, then that's it. It'll be over. As a matter of fact, it probably won't matter if I have fun or not because I'm going to shake you off in the crowd today anyways and join my friends to go shopping."

There was a silence on the other end of the phone.

"Peter?" I prompted, thinking he hadn't been listening.

"We'll see."

The line went dead.

--

**A/N: The next chapter of course will entail Peter and Wendy's date…which isn't really a date…More like an imprisonment actually. Anyways, tell me what you think. Ideas? Suggestions? Anything? **


	5. The Boy Who Could Fly, Sorta

There was a knock on the door. Oh, God, this was it. I looked in the mirror hanging next to the door and made sure I was as ugly as possible before letting Peter in. (I figured if I repulsed him enough, he'd leave me alone).

Peter took one look at my face and laughed.

Gee, thanks.

"Nice zit," he commented, touching it with his finger and finding that it would smear against my skin, "but I can see that it's fake. You weren't thinking you'd be able to get away from me if you thought I wasn't attracted to you, were you?"

Now he was psychic _and_ annoying.

"Well you were wrong," he went on with a self-satisfied smirk. "You see, I thought you were ugly to begin with."

"What a nice boy," commented my mother from the kitchen.

I widened my eyes, not realizing she had been listening. Then, after comprehending what she had said, it made it clear she must _not _have been listening. "He just called me ugly!" I told her with indignation.

"Well if he thinks you're ugly, but still wants to go out with you, it shows that he isn't the shallow type. You know what they say, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder'. Peter Pan has good character." Mother poked her head out of the kitchen and gave me a warm smile.

Was she _actually _defending Peter for calling me ugly?

"Shall we?" Peter asked, offering his arm to me, still looking incredibly smug.

I pushed pass him into the hallway and muttered, "Let's get this over with."

--

The street outside was busy and crowded as usual and there was one guy peeing in someone's flowerbed. I reckon he was either drunk or he just really had to go.

Peter steered me away from the guy using the bathroom and instead pulled me down the sidewalk going in a different direction.

"So," I said casually, "where are you taking me? I hope my jail cell has a mattress because I don't enjoy sleeping on the floor."

Peter gave me a dirty look. "You're not my prisoner, Wendy. You're free to go anytime you'd like."

"Well, then," I said a great deal more cheerfully. "I suppose I'll see you around." I ran across a narrow side street.

"What!" Peter called from behind me. _"I didn't mean now!" _He ran after me, catching up almost instantly. He sure could run fast…Even his own shadow had trouble keeping up with him. "Alright," he told me, not even breaking a sweat, "I will take you as my prisoner if that's the only way I can get you to behave."

"'Behave'?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows. "I'm not the rude one going about insulting people. You didn't hear _me_ call you ugly."

"Well if you called me ugly then you'd be lying," Peter explained. "As you know, I'm just an honest boy always honest when telling the honest truth, honestly. You'll never hear a lie escape from these gloriously full lips."

"You sure think a lot of yourself," I told him, scowling.

"What, do you dare deny that I'm extremely good-looking?" he asked, pretending to be shocked.

"You're okay," I shrugged. "No Brad Pitt, though."

Peter gawked at me. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm gorgeous!"

Looking at him, I realized that he was being entirely serious with himself. He honestly thought he was the cat's pajamas. Though, I don't see what's so great about a cat wearing pajamas.

"You know, one day I'm going to be a famous or something, and you're going to be sorry. They're going to write plays about me and make movies and you're going to be sitting in the audience thinking, 'Oh, why wasn't I nicer to Peter Pan?'" He looked oddly confident about this.

"Movies you say?" I asked, not believing it for a second.

"Oh yes," he replied, nodding. "I'll be so famous that they'll even put my name on peanut butter."

"Oh, _right_," I said, rolling my eyes. "Like that's ever going to happen." I secretly told myself if he ever did end up having his own brand of peanut butter, I would never eat it.

"So, I thought we'd go to The Mermaid Lagoon for lunch," Peter informed me. "It's this boat slash sandwich shop right on the water. A couple of friends of mine own it and I think you'll enjoy it. There's karaoke and dancing and all that good stuff."

Karaoke? Dancing? No, thank you.

"Why don't we go somewhere normal?" I suggested. "Like home?"

"Aw, c'mon, Wendy…don't you want to have a little fun? You'll like it, I promise."

Oh, and we all know how good Peter is at keeping his promises.

We caught a cab and had the driver take us to the queer sandwich shop that Peter was so desperate to eat at. It was exactly like I had imagined; it was something like a miniature ferry with picnic tables and waitresses dressed casually in jeans and white blouses with their hair tied up against the breeze. A dry-erase board fixed to a wooden post informed us that the boat would be setting sail momentarily seeing that all of the tables were filling up.

One of the girls letting people in on the dock took one look at Peter and started squealing. "Oh, _Peter!_" she cried, running to throw her arms around him. "Why did you stay away so long? Did you miss me?" She suddenly saw me standing beside him. "Who's she?"

Peter must have remembered that I existed. "Huh? Her? Oh, that's Wendy."

"A sister?" the hostess prompted. I couldn't help but notice how hopeful the girl sounded. I rolled my eyes.

"Nope," said Peter, shaking his head. "She's my date. Well…sort of."

The girl did not look too pleased about this at all. She narrowed her eyes at me and said, "Well I'd hate to ruin your date but we seem to be all filled up. I suggest you find somewhere else to eat."

Ooh, ouch.

"But look, there's a free table just over there," Peter pointed out, frowning.

"We're out of silverware," the girl explained flatly.

"It's a sandwich shop! We don't need silverware," I chipped in, starting to get annoyed at this girl. I was hungry after all.

"Wendy raises a good argument," Peter agreed.

"We're out of plates, too," the girl lied, crossing her arms.

"Are you out of cups and drink and food as well?" I asked, pretending to sound sincere.

"As a matter of fact, we are."

Another waitress came up and gave the hostess a dirty look. "Stop lying to the customers, Michelle." She turned to Peter and I and said, "Please, follow me."

I stuck my tongue out at Michelle as I boarded the boat. That stupid snobby bitch. We were seated at a picnic table next to an open window that looked out over the water. Although I hated to say it, it sure was a nice day for a boat ride. I secretly hoped it would start raining.

"My name is Cici and I'll be your server," our waitress told us. "Peter, it is always nice to see you again."

Peter gave her a winning smile.

I rolled my eyes.

"What would you both like to drink?" Cici asked us.

"Cici, you know what I like," Peter reminded her. She started blushing. I swear, I had never rolled my eyes so many times in one day.

"And for you?" she asked me, her manner suddenly cold.

"Coke's fine," I told her cheerfully, trying to ignore the multiple glares I was receiving from all of the waitresses patrolling the boat.

When Cici returned, she had conveniently gotten my order wrong and had given me a Sunkist. How do you confuse Coke with Sunkist? Peter, however, had been served fruit punch mixed with Sprite in a martini glass with a little umbrella sticking out of it. And she had gotten _my _order wrong.

I stared at her as she walked away, swishing her little butt like she actually had something back there. Scowling, I looked down at the menu she had given me. It was wrinkled and damaged by water. Looking across the table, I could see that Peter's was perfect. How incredibly suspicious.

"What are you having?" I asked Peter, seeing that he hadn't even opened his menu.

"A grilled cheese sandwich. Duh."

Well excuse me for asking.

"I think I'll have a vegetarian sub," I said aloud. "I need them vegetables."

Peter looked up at me with raised eyebrows. "I don't think becoming a vegetarian for me will help you lose weight, Wendy. I think it's a lost cause for you."

I opened my mouth in surprise. "I'm not fat!" I denied.

"Just keep telling yourself that, love," he said, smiling. "Remember, I told you I don't care how ugly you are. I'll dislike you just the same."

I was about to jump across the table and strangle him when that Cici bitch returned. "I know what you want to eat, Peter," she told him, still blushing. "but what is it that your friend wants?"

"Girlfriend," Peter corrected.

"I'm not his girlfriend!" I snapped, glaring at him.

"See how she treats me?" Peter complained. "Here I am, taking her to this nice restaurant…and how does she repay me? She obviously doesn't want to be seen with me." He pretended to look miserable for the benefit of the waitress.

"Oh, you poor dear," she cooed to Peter. "You need to find a girl who is nicer to you."

"I agree entirely!" I piped up, furious. Cici narrowed her eyes at me. I honestly thought she was about to smack me in the face with her serving tray. Gulping, I added, "And I'd like a vegetarian sub."

She returned with a plate of fish sticks.

Looking at Peter's grilled cheese sandwich, I could see that someone had written his name across the top of the bread with melted cheese, as if it had been icing. There was even a heart surrounding it.

"Your friends don't seem to like me very much," I told Peter before miserably dipping a fish stick into some ketchup. "I should've had you order for me." Just as I said this, a waitress passing me tripped, pouring an entire jug of cold water all over me. I spluttered, shocked at the cold. Peter was laughing from the other side of the table.

"Sorry," said the waitress, though there was an unmistakable smile on her face. I looked at the floor. There was nothing she could have possibly tripped on.

"Peter, I want to go," I declared, standing up.

"But miss, the boat is already moving," the waitress told me gleefully.

By golly, she was right.

Peter had already wolfed down his sandwich and was standing up. "C'mon, Wendy, let's go dance!"

"I'm soaking wet!" I complained. "I'm not dancing with anyone!"

"If we go up on deck in the sun, you'll dry off faster. Dancing will help too," Peter pointed out.

"But she might slip," Cici protested, walking up with her arms crossed. Oh, so _now_ she cared about my wellbeing.

Peter ignored her and grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the steps that went up top into the warm sunlight. There was a breeze though, so I was still cold.

There was something like a wooden dance floor set out where people were already busting a move to fast, upbeat music I had never heard before. I crossed my arms and stood like a statue, refusing to dance.

"C'mon," he pleaded. "Don't make me grovel."

"Go dance with Cici," I snapped at him. "I'm sure she makes a better dancing partner anyways."

Peter frowned at me before shrugging indifferently and saying, "Okay, then. If that's what you'd like." I was surprised that he was actually going to do what I told him to.

Peter took Cici by the hand and dragged her out amongst the crazed dancers. I sat down on the warm deck to watch. That's when I realized something.

He could fly.

...Or at least dance really good.

Peter Pan was swirling Cici around the dance floor like a dancing god, his hair falling into his determined green eyes and his mouth set in a confident smile. He was practically flying around the deck and Cici was having trouble keeping up. Her face was red and breathless. It's a good thing I didn't go out there or I might have died from an asthma attack.

Other dancers were parting to get away from Cici and Peter's wild feet. I stared in amazement, the sunlight bouncing off of his hair like golden dust as he became a whirling blur. The music abruptly stopped and everyone started clapping.

Cici was steadying herself on the railing, trying to catch her breath. Other waitresses magically appeared, all wondering if Peter was going to dance again. The dancer himself brushed them off and, instead, headed over towards me. "How was _that_?" he asked smugly.

"You missed a few steps," I replied coolly, pretending that I wasn't impressed. Wait, what? There was no need to pretend because I _certainly _wasn't impressed.

"Bullshit," he snapped. "I was amazing and you know it."

"Cici nearly passed out," I protested.

"Yeah, because I was so amazing," Peter replied cockily, rolling his eyes. "Now, I know you want a go on that dance floor with me."

The music started again. _"'L is for the way you look at me-'"_

"Oh _hell _no," I said indignantly. "There's no way I'm dancing to that romantic crap."

This was when boat started to turn around; it was heading back towards the dock. Unfortunately, there were several sleek motorboats coming to cut us off. Looking over the side, I could see a man standing at the bow of the largest motorboat. I had just noticed the steel hook protruding from the man's sleeve when the roar of the waves was interrupted by the crack of a gun and the screams of customers as sandwiches went flying off into the water.

We were under attack.

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**A/N: GIVE ME REVIEWS OR I'LL STOP WRITING. I'm not sure if that's much of a threat since no one seems to be reading anyways…BUT STILL. Don't break my heart. Leave reviews. **


	6. In Which I Heroically Hid in the Can

"There's a bathroom below deck with a lock. Go in there and don't come out until I tell you to."

Surely he wasn't talking to me? Well, it didn't really matter whether he was talking to me or not because I certainly wasn't listening long enough to know what he just said.

"Wendy!" a voice shouted in my ear.

I turned to look at Peter. His smugness was gone and instead he had a serious, determined look on his face. That's when I realized he was gripping my shoulders and shaking me.

"I told Michael there weren't any pirates in New York," I said to Peter dreamily. "He'll be so thrilled when I tell him I was wrong."

"Go below deck _now_, Wendy!" he bellowed, wrenching me away from the railing and shoving me in the direction of the ladder.

That's when it hit me.

Oh yeah, I was about to die.

My brain kicked in and started sending all these panic impulses to every muscle in my body and I instantly started running. I was halfway to the steps leading down below when I stopped and forced myself to turn back to Peter.

"Aren't you coming?" I demanded breathlessly. "As much as I dislike you, I'd feel bad if you died."

_"Shuddup and run!" _he snarled at me.

I didn't need to be told twice.

Below deck, all of the waitresses and customers were hiding beneath their picnic tables, sobbing into each other's necks. More gunshots sounded and I could hear the engine to the boat shut off. The motorboats must have reached The Mermaid Lagoon because I heard heavy footsteps overhead, letting me know the pirates had boarded.

I found the small bathroom just to the right of the ladder. I pushed open the door, slamming and latching it behind me. The bathroom itself seemed fairly clean, but there was a slight foul odor on the air that made me remember that the toilet didn't simply flush out into the Atlantic.

There was a small sink with a tiny mirror hanging over it. The mermaid wallpaper was peeling in places and where the wood was showing, people had carved in their names or drawn little hearts. In one place I could see "Michelle + Peter 4eva". Oh _hell _no. I dug through my purse and found a metal nail filer. With it, I scratched out their names and instead wrote, "Michelle is a bitch." I thought about writing something nasty about Peter as well but the screaming of people just outside the door made me remember why I was in the bathroom in the first place.

I set my purse on the floor and held my nail filer out like a sword, my eyes fixed on the door in case any of those pirates tried to pull something. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move. I jumped to face it, my heart starting when I realized it was my own reflection in the mirror.

Scared, pale blue eyes watched me from an even paler face. My light brown hair was still wet and slick strands fell into my face, moving back and forth with my rapid breathing. People had stopped screaming, but a few were whimpering and I heard the boards groaning outside as someone slowly walked across them. Holding my breath, I switched out the light and kneeled down, wedging myself between the sink and the toilet.

The footsteps stopped right outside the door.

"Which one of you cowards had the bright idea of hiding in the bathroom?" a low, dark voice growled.

I bit my fist to force myself not to make a sound as the door rattled violently. It sounded as if whoever was standing outside had kicked at it.

The intruder shot his gun off and my ears started ringing. _"Tell me which one of you went into the bathroom." _He must have been snarling at all the people outside hiding beneath the picnic tables.

"It was that Wendy girl!" someone squealed. I recognized the voice as belonging to Michelle's. That _bitch. _If I had the time I'd add on a few more nasty names to the bathroom wall.

"Wendy?" the pirate repeated, sounding amused. The floorboards creaked again and a voice whispered so softly that only I would be able to hear it. "Come out and play, Wendy."

"Leave her alone, Hook," another, more familiar voice snapped.

_It was Peter._

That boy was crazy. I knew I should have beaten him off with a stick back on that bus when I had the chance. Assuming, of course, I had been carrying a stick that day.

"Well, well, well…if it isn't Peter Pan?" the man replied. "How many times do I have to tell you, my name is _not _Hook. I need to start wearing a more realistic-looking prosthetic hand until you come up with a more original nickname." There was a slight pause before the pirate continued, "Come now, I want every soul on this boat in front of me and accounted for before I start my raid. Peter, I suggest you lure your little girlfriend out before I start shooting random customers. Such as this nice young lady here who was so kind as to rat Wendy out."

He must have been talking about Michelle.

"Go ahead and shoot her!" I yelled out from the bathroom.

Despite everything, I could hear Peter laughing on the other side. "Oh c'mon, Wendy," he teased, "surely you don't want her to die? After all, she's the one who tried to stop us from getting on this boat in the first place. Just think, if she had succeeded, then we wouldn't be in this mess. Funny how things work out that way, huh?"

I stopped to think about that. So Michelle technically had been trying to save our lives…although she had done so unknowingly. I looked over at the wall at the crossed out letters Michelle must have written there previously. Looking at it just made me mad.

To hell with Michelle.

"I'm staying in here, thanks!" I cried out, hugging my knees to my soggy clothes.

Hook started shooting at the door like some crazy ass bitch.

I started screaming as the whole bathroom shook. The mirror fell off the wall and crashed into a million pieces in the sink, some spilling over the edges and falling in my hair. I proceeded to scream louder as Hook kicked the door open and marched inside.

I'm not sure what I had expected. Maybe a middle-aged guy with streaked graying hair and a scarred face with a parrot on his shoulder? I'm not sure. Instead, a guy came in looking as if he were in his mid-twenties with dark curls and blue eyes with a shadow along his chin, hinting he must have forgotten to shave for the last week or so. He grinned at me, revealing slightly crooked teeth.

"Wendy," said Hook, pointing his pistol at me, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

I'd say it was a pleasure to meet him too…if he wasn't pointing a gun in my face. Hook reached out with his…well…hook and picked me up by the collar of my shirt, pulling me up to my feet.

"Don't touch her," Peter snarled, trying to lunge at Hook. Two more pirates were holding him back by the arms and he was struggling to get away.

Hook dragged me out of the bathroom and into the light. I could see that Michelle was cowering on her knees by a trashcan. I promptly stuck my tongue out at her.

"You know," said Hook in a menacing voice to Peter, "I'd very much like to cut this pretty little girl up as payment for what you did to my hand not so long ago."

I gaped at Peter. "You cut off this guy's arm?" I demanded, disgusted at the brutishness.

"I didn't cut off his arm!" Peter denied. "It was a total accident!"

"You said you knew how to drive!" Hook snapped at him.

"I _did_ know how to drive! I'd been alive long enough to figure it out!" Peter shot back.

"You drove into three mail boxes and hit a fire hydrant!" Hook roared.

"They jumped out of nowhere. Plus that damn garbage truck was trying to run me out of the road," Peter shouted furiously.

Okay, I was seriously missing something here. Obviously, Peter and the pirate knew each other from somewhere and obviously no one should have given Peter his license. Deciding that I was tired of being left in the dark I asked, "What happened?"

Hook sighed and began to narrate. "I was hanging my arm out the passenger window of the car when Pan suddenly went off the road. We ran into a bunch of stuff before scraping against a building. My hand got ripped clean off as the car flipped over. Peter thought I was dead. So he ran out of the car and disappeared before the cops came." Hook scowled. "He abandoned me."

"Apparently for the better," Peter added, crossing his arms. "Look at you now! Robbing mobile sandwich shops. Honestly, I thought you'd be my only friend to go to college."

"What about you, Pan?" Hook retorted. "Don't deny that you still race across rooftops with your little band of miscreants."

"We don't _rob _people, though," said Peter, frowning.

"Oh, right," Hook replied cheerfully. "That reminds me why I'm here in the first place." He shot his gun at the ceiling and shouted to everyone on the boat, "Listen up here filth! I'm taking over this ship! You may call me captain now. And, my first order is for the ladies and gents to slide their valuables towards the center of the floor and my associate, Smee, will collect them. I sure hope you all know how to swim because we're going to make you walk the plank." Hook allowed himself a self-satisfied smile at his own joke. I think he was taking the idea of piracy a little overboard, (no pun intended).

"But sir, my husband! He has a heart condition! If he swims too hard he will-," a concerned elderly woman tried to explain from beneath a picnic table.

"Shuddup!" Hook bellowed, cutting her off. "Either he goes for a little swim or he gets his brains blown in. It's your choice, you old hag."

"I have a baby!" another woman piped up, showing off the little pipsqueak in her arms. "She can't swim and I can't swim trying to hold her above water!"

"Well then, you'd better hope your baby can float," replied Hook greasily.

The woman looked positively alarmed at this.

"Well what about me?" a middle-aged man called out from behind the shield of his briefcase. "I get earaches really easily and I'm concerned that the water will-"

"DO YOU WANT AN EARACHE OR DO YOU WANT TO DIE?" Hook roared. I privately agreed with the pirate. Who the hell worried about their ears at a time like this?

That's when I remembered I had a nail filer still in my fingers. I really can't be held accountable for my foolish actions considering the adrenaline surging through my body also happened to be lowering my IQ, so believe me when I say I decided to do something stupid.

I lunged out with my sharp nail filer and I stabbed Captain Hook right in the butt.

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**A/N: Okay, this is just getting depressing. I need reviews you guys. I live on them. If you took the time to read six chapters the least you could do is review. Please?**


	7. The Apparent Death of Peter

I guess the nail filer wasn't as sharp as I had originally thought because it didn't even break Hook's skin. It merely jabbed him hard enough to cause him to let out a string of curses that his mother would be ashamed to hear.

Hook spun around and knocked me backwards into the ladder with a blow by his hook. My weapon of choice fell out of my hand and landed on the wooden floor. Peter kicked his captives in the shins and dove down to pick up my nail filer and proceeded to jab Hook in various places with it. This was a big enough distraction that the scared customers were fleeing the safety of their tables and rushing passed us to get on deck. They didn't even stop to help us.

Traitors.

I kicked Hook as hard as I could between the legs to keep him from shooting Peter in the face. Hook doubled over in pain, dropping his pistol. Peter kicked the gun over to me and I picked it up, looking at the shiny metal dubiously. I had no idea how to use a gun.

"Shoot him!" Peter cried, ducking a swing from a rather burly looking pirate.

Shoot him? I was no murderer. So instead, I did the next best thing…I threw the gun out through an open window. I heard it splash into the water. Satisfied, I turned back to Peter and the pirates.

Peter was gaping at me. "You just threw our only means of escape out through the window!" he shouted.

There were several more splashes and I could see a few people had jumped off the ship into the water to swim towards the dock. That water must have been cold, too.

Peter rolled his eyes at my stupidity and ran up the ladder while the pirates were distracted by Hook's complaining about getting kicked in the family jewels, (again, no pun intended). I chased after Peter into the blazing sunlight.

I could see the earache guy standing on the railing, debating whether or not his ear was more important than his life. I decided to make the decision for him and I pushed him off. He screamed in protest as he fell all the way down.

The pirates were after Peter now and Hook was back on his feet. Peter was dancing on top of the karaoke machine, dodging the pirate hands lunging for his feet. "Wendy!" he cried. "Find the controls and turn on the engine!"

Man, and I was just preparing myself to jump in the water. Gritting my teeth, I drew myself away from the railing and looked up at where the captain's quarters would be. It was a platform on deck set slightly higher than everything else. I ran the length of the ship to the ladder going up to the platform. Exhausted, I made the climb. The quarters were empty.

I had never driven a boat before so I pretty much had no clue what I was doing. "THERE'S NO 'ON' BUTTON!" I bellowed down to Peter.

"OF COURSE THERE'S NO 'ON' BUTTON!" he shouted back. "KEEP LOOKING. TURN THE BLASTED ENGINE ON ALREADY! WE NEED TO GET BACK TO THE DOCK!"

Okay, there was this lever thing and one of those old-fashioned ship wheels with a clock set into it. There was also a compass set into the dashboard along with a bunch of random switches and buttons. The lever had "high" and "low" on each side of it so I assumed it had something to do with speed. I cranked up the lever and started pushing a bunch of buttons. One had to do with the ship's lights and another went to the intercom. After the pioneering button-mashing, I realized that The Mermaid Lagoon was indeed moving. The motorboats that were tied to the ship were knocking against the hull and making quite a ruckus.

The pirates realized this so they all fled and jumped into their motorboats before they were smashed. Well, all of the pirates except for Captain Hook. He was in a hook-and-nail-filer duel to the death with Peter Pan. Peter tripped the pirate with a microphone cord and proceeded to sit on Hook's back, holding down the arm with the sharp claw and attempting to file through the steel so Hook wouldn't have anything to fight with.

"Peter!" I cried from the controls, realizing how close we were getting to the dock. "Ice burg ahead!" I sure hoped he had seen the movie _Titanic _or else we were all screwed. But Peter seemed to understand. He quickly got to his feet and practically flew to the control center. He yanked on the lever to try and get the speed lower. But, as our luck would have it, the lever was jammed.

"What did you do?" he demanded, trying to pull it again.

"I didn't do anything! I just pushed a lot of buttons until the engine turned on!" I exclaimed.

"Oh great," said Peter dully. "You must have overheated it if you pushed everything at once." Hook was untangling himself from the microphone cord and was making his way towards us.

"We're going to crash!" I yelled. "There are still people on this boat! That lady with the baby and the old people who-"

"Shuddup!" Peter snapped. "I'm trying to think. Go get those people into the remaining motorboat. Do _not _wait for me." The remaining motorboat must have belonged to Hook because he was the only pirate left onboard. On the back of it were the words: _Jolly Roger. _How unimaginative. Ignoring this, I raced back down the deck towards the remaining customers, skirting a swing from Hook. I pushed the civilians over the side and into the motorboat and anxiously looked at the controls. Again, why was I stuck with having to drive the boat? I had no idea how to even drive a car let alone a motorboat!

The old man pushed me out of the way and fiddled with the controls himself. The motorboat surged forward after I untied the rope holding the boat to the railing of The Mermaid Lagoon. As we sped away, The Mermaid Lagoon barreled closer to the dock. I looked back over my shoulder to see Peter Pan dancing along the ship's railing as Hook continued to swipe at him.

The Mermaid Lagoon was only about a hundred feet away from the dock. Seeing this made my heart stop. "PETER!" I bellowed. "JUMP PETER!"

He couldn't seem to hear me because he was too busy laughing at Hook for having slipped on the waxed dance floor. Now, The Mermaid Lagoon was only fifty feet away and was picking up speed. I closed my eyes. I couldn't watch.

The sound was incredible.

My eyes flew open as The Mermaid Lagoon hit the dock with a loud _crunch. _The boards of the walkway were ripped to shreds as the ship continued to blast through, destroying several smaller boats in the process. I lost sight of Hook and Peter in the mess as the mobile sandwich shop split in two in an explosion that rocked our motorboat. The Mermaid Lagoon's oil supply must have gotten hit.

There was nothing but smoke and flames and water when the waves calmed. There was no Hook and there was no Peter.

"Poor boy," the lady with the baby whispered sadly. "He was so brave."

"NO!" I shouted. "He's not dead!" There was no way Peter could be dead. Less than an hour ago I was eating fish sticks across the table from him. I refused to believe that boy I met on the bus had died in a tragic episode of piracy on a sandwich shop. No one would believe it. Even the obituaries wouldn't.

There was a smaller dock nearby in which my small crew tied off our getaway boat and crawled onshore. I raced back towards the original dock, which was now in pieces, and tried to peer through the smoke. Where was Peter? I knew he had to be there somewhere. There was a light hand on my shoulder. I spun around, expecting to see the green eyes of my poor choice of a date. Instead, Michelle and her royal bitchiness was standing there looking solemn. She must have been one of the cowards that jumped off the boat and swam to shore seeing as she was soaking wet.

"Is P-Peter g-gone?" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

I refused to admit anything. I was too afraid that I would believe it myself.

Seeing the look on my face, Michelle started to cry harder and she pulled me into an embrace to bawl into my neck. _"He's gone!" _she wailed.

Ah, what the heck? _"He's gone!"_ I wailed as well, sobbing into Michelle's neck. I had never seen anyone die before, let alone someone I had just met. "Why h-hadn't I been nicer to P-Peter?" I added, thoroughly shell-shocked. "If o-only I h-had…If only…" I proceeded to cry even harder and my stomach felt weak, causing me to throw up all over Michelle's shoulder. She didn't even notice. (Heh).

"If only I had picked a better restaurant," commented a voice dryly.

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**A/N: Review review review review review review review. : D**


	8. The Lost Boys Who Weren't Lost

I broke away from Michelle to see that Peter Pan was climbing out of the water through the rubble of broken boards and soggy sandwiches. I raced towards him the minute he was back onshore. I tackled him to the ground and hugged him profusely. "You're alive!" I sang, kissing him on each cheek. Realizing what I was doing, I pushed myself off of him and started kicking him. "You're alive," I snarled angrily, trying to cause as much pain as possible. "You made me think you were dead! You scared the crap out of me!" I kicked him once more. "Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again."

"Ow!" said Peter. "Ow, ow, ow!" He sheltered his head with his arms. Michelle pushed pass me and kneeled down to Peter.

"Oh, Peter!" she cooed. "You were so brave!" She was leaning down to kiss him like I had done.

"Oh, no you don't!" I snapped, yanking back on Michelle's puked-on hair. She gasped in surprise and fell backwards as Peter slowly got to his feet. He was smirking at me.

I scowled at him. "What are you looking at?" I demanded, showing him my fist. "My purse was on that ship with my cell phone and money and everything! My mum's going to be so pissed. I swear, if I ever see you again…" I trailed off, not knowing what I'd do to him if I happened to see him again. But I know it wouldn't be pleasant.

He continued to smirk as he took out my nail filer and started to shape his nails with it. "You were worried about me," he said simply, watching his nails instead of me.

"I…I most certainly was not!" I denied. "Like I said before, I'd feel bad if you died…"

"Admit it," he said smugly, putting the filer back in his pocket. "You were worried. I saw you crying back there."

"I was crying because I just had a very long day in which I was nearly killed by _pirates_ in New York City on a date, no less, with a stalker boy I met a midnight. You'd be crying too!" I scowled at him.

He danced around me, grabbing my hands and pulling me into a spin. _"Wendy was worried, Wendy was worried, Wendy was worried!" _he sang gleefully. _"Wendy likes me, Wendy likes me, Wendy-"_

I shut him up by punching him in the eye.

He frowned at me as he stumbled back holding his eye. "If you like me," he said slowly, "you sure have a funny way of showing it."

"That's because I don't," I snapped. I wasn't lying. Peter was much too annoying and self-centered for me to like him. Well…except for the fact that he risked his life to save everyone back on that boat. Psh, whatever. Technicalities.

Peter put his arm around me as we walked away from the wreckage and towards the street, winding our way through flashing fire trucks and police cars.

"I must say," I admitted, "this was certainly the most_ exciting_ date I've ever been on."

"Don't be modest. I know you had fun," Peter accused me as I tried to push his arm off of me. "You got to poke a pirate in the butt and play a hero. Don't tell me that wasn't fun."

"Fun is too strong a word to describe what happened," I said hesitantly. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we'll be going out again anytime soon."

"Hmm," said Peter thoughtfully. "I could always tell your mother how I saved your life yet again. She'll _make _you continue to date me."

"You didn't save my life!" I snapped. "I saved my own life. Besides, you didn't save me before when your stupid cat attacked me. You only watched!"

"Your mother won't see it that way," he replied cheerfully.

"Seriously, what's your problem? All of those waitresses kept throwing themselves at you while we were eating and yet you're after the only girl who _doesn't _want you." I crossed my arms stonily.

Peter looked positively thrilled at this information. "They were throwing themselves at me? Really?"

"It was kind of hard to miss!" I told him in exasperation.

"I should have gotten their numbers," said Peter miserably. "Why couldn't you have told me that back in the restaurant?"

"Seriously? You would have gotten the numbers from a bunch of waitresses while you were on a date with me?" I demanded angrily.

"Well if you don't want me, there's no shame in going after the people that do," said Peter with a shrug. He sighed. "I'm sorry that our date had to end with a bang like that. I guess I'll just take you home."

"You're giving up just like that?" I asked in surprise.

"I kind of have to," Peter replied sadly. "Anyways, I hope your food was worth dying for, at least. Since…that's how it sort of turned out."

"Yeah," I agreed. "And you said I'd _like_ it."

We made our way through an army of pigeons, keeping to the sidewalks as yet another fire truck wailed pass. The more we walked, the more I began to worry how I was going to explain all of this to my mother. She would never believe that we were attacked by pirates. I'd have to tell her I got caught in a rainstorm (to explain my wet clothes) and was mugged by a guy on a moped (to explain how I lost my purse).

"Well, well, well," said Peter in amusement, pulling me out of my plotting mode. There were six young guys wandering around on the sidewalk, looking at street signs with confused expressions on their faces. "Are you lost boys?" Peter asked them, smirking.

"Very funny, Peter," the tallest of the six replied dully. "No, we're not lost. We were going down to The Mermaid Lagoon because we heard you were going there for lunch…but we can't find it. There sure are a lot of fire trucks around though. Did the ship dock somewhere else or something?"

"Oh, no," said Peter seriously, "it didn't dock anywhere else."

"Did they go out of business?" another asked, looking disheartened.

"You could say that," Peter said sheepishly.

"Wait…why are you all wet?" the first boy added, his frown deepening.

"Funny story actually. Wendy, would you like to explain to them why I'm all wet and why The Mermaid Lagoon seems to be absent?" Peter prompted.

I blinked. "What, you're blaming me?"

"You were the one who poked Hook in the butt," he reminded me.

"That was a total accident! Besides, you would have done the same if you were that out of it." I scowled at him.

"What about the button-mashing, oh fearless one?" Peter questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"How was I supposed to know it would freeze up like that?" I shot at him.

"Are we missing something…?" one of the boys asked suspiciously.

"Wendy crashed our favorite sandwich shop into the dock," Peter said accusingly, narrowing his eyes at me.

"She _what?_" the boys chorused.

"The pirates were going to steal it anyways!" I exclaimed. "If it wasn't destroyed it'd just be captured!"

"So you admit it? You were the downfall of our beloved lunching spot?" Peter shot at me.

"I'm not admitting anything!" I snapped.

"Excuse me, when did you two get married?" the first boy asked cheerfully.

"Shut up Slightly," Peter hissed.

"Yeah, shut up Slightly," I added. Slightly gave me a weird look but fell silent. "Speaking of which, I don't know the rest of you guy's names."

"The twins' names are Binky and Marmaduke. That's Curly, Tootles, and Nibs. You already know Slightly," said Peter, waving his hand vaguely at the bunch. "You still crashed that ship," he added, eyes narrowed.

Tootles? Nibs? What kind of names were those? Not wanting to be rude, I just smiled politely and nodded at them.

"This waste of space is, of course, Wendy," Peter went on, addressing his friends.

"For someone who's so desperate to go out with me, you sure could be a little nicer," I told him with a frown.

The boys proceeded to make _ooh_ing sounds and wolf whistles at this information. "She sure got you pinned, Pete," Slightly teased. "Where'd you pick her up? The bus?" The boys seemed to think this was particularly funny.

"Yes, actually," Peter replied with an unfriendly smile.

"Oh."

Well that shut them up.

"So uh…Peter?" prompted Nibs. "Are you heading home or what?"

"Actually, I'm going to drop her off and then I'm coming home," Peter replied. I could see that his clothes were starting to dry because they were wrinkling up. He looked exhausted.

"That's okay, I can walk myself home," I offered. "You look tired. All that dancing must have worn you out."

"You went dancing?" Curly demanded. "With her?"

"No I went dancing with Cici," Peter replied, looking guilty.

"You went dancing with another girl while on a date with Wendy?" Slightly asked, surprised. "How'd you get away with that?"

"I was trying to impress her," Peter started to explain.

"By making her jealous?" Tootles piped up.

"I wasn't jealous!" I cut in.

"Wow, this sounds bad, doesn't it?" Peter asked hesitantly. "See…I was just…Wendy kissed me!"

Oh, changing the subject? Nice ploy.

All the boys spun around to look at me with their mouths gaping open. "You did what? Why would you do that? He was definitely two-timing you! I can't believe you kissed him! On the first date too!" they all chorused.

"He tricked me! He made me think he was dead!" I shouted over them. "It was only on the cheeks anyways."

Slightly turned to Peter. "Oh Peter, you dog. You sure come up with the weirdest ways of picking up girls."

This annoyed me so I decided I didn't need to defend myself any longer. I stepped out onto the curb and signaled for a taxi. One stopped for me almost the instant I stuck my hand out. I slammed the door behind me and looked out of the back window at Peter as he tried to chase after me, waving his arms for me to come back.

Yeah, right.

--

**A/N: Yeah I know this was kind of a boring chapter, but I needed to get the lost boys in somehow. Review. Now. **


	9. Wendy: Professional Sandwich Maker

Ah, home sweet home.

Or so I thought.

I had just stepped out of the taxi (after having flirted with the driver for several minutes because I didn't have any money to pay him) when who happens to be lounging against the door to my apartment building none other than Peter Pan?

"How did you get here so fast?" I asked, both suspicious and impressed.

"I have my ways," replied Peter mysteriously as he examined his fingernails.

"You took the bus, didn't you?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes. He must have taken the bus.

"What? How dare you! Of _course _I didn't take the bus. I…look that's not the point. The point is that I'm here to apologize." I could see that Peter was trying to put on a somber face as he continued, "After looking back, I realized I wasn't the most polite of gentlemen. I'm sorry if I came across as a player to you."

A player? Did he just say that?

"Uh…," I replied, speechless. "I don't really know what to say…"

"Say you'll let me make it up to you," he told me eagerly. "C'mon! I have the rest of the weekend to make it up to you. By the way, what school did you say you went to?" He slipped the question in so quickly and slyly that I almost fell for it.

"I didn't say," I replied dully. It was just another one of his tricks so he could continue to stalk me. "Nice try though."

"Please Wendy?" he asked, lacing his fingers together as if in prayer. "Give me another chance. Don't make me beg."

I can't say I'd turn down a little groveling.

After resisting great temptation, I sighed. "Well…Oh, alright. You're lucky I'm so sweet."

"Ha, I knew it'd work," said Peter smugly as he ran a hand arrogantly through his hair.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, if you don't mind," I added, "I'm going upstairs to change into something that's not soaking wet and-"

"Wendy?" a voice asked, sounding incredulous.

I tore my eyes away from Peter to see my two friends Kim and Zandra standing not but a few feet away, looking me up and down as if I had just crawled out of a sewer. Kim was half Chinese/half I-have-no-clue with short dark hair and slightly slanted eyes. She constantly had the look on her face as if she were smelling something particularly nasty, but I still loved her anyways. Zandra (short for Alexandra) was as white as they come with equally short hair that had the tendency to poof out whether it was humid or not. Both had brown eyes that were flicking between Peter and myself with disbelief.

"Kim," I said, plastering on a smile. "Zandra. Funny seeing you two here."

"You told us to meet you here. We're going shopping, remember?" Kim said, lifting a dark eyebrow. Her eyes were still glancing to Peter with interest.

"I didn't know you were going to a wet t-shirt contest," Zandra added, pointing at my shirt. I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck my tongue out at her.

"Who's he?" Kim demanded.

"That's uh…That's…," I faltered, wondering why my friends were acting so hostile.

"I'm her boyfriend," Peter offered, bowing his head in greeting. "Pan. Peter Pan." Who was he, James Bond?

"Boyfriend?" my friends chorused.

"UM," I said loudly, dragging their eyes away from Peter. "Can I talk to you two upstairs?" When Peter started for the door after us, I added, "Alone?"

Peter rolled his eyes and slumped against the brick wall, waving us to go inside. I pulled Kim and Zandra after me, hightailing it to the elevator. Once we were safely inside I explained everything to them.

"He sure is cute," said Kim, releasing a giggle.

Was she giggling? Gross.

"I don't care how cute he may be," I told them. "I'm only doing this because…" I trailed off. Wait, why _was _I doing this? Originally it had been for my mother just because I had wanted to make her happy. But I already went out with him and had nearly lost my life doing so. Now who was I doing it for?

Unnerved by this thought, I fell into silence. My friends proceeded to giggle all the way up to my floor. The elevator doors slid open and I was just about to step out when I caught sight of Peter leaning against the door to my apartment.

"How does he _do_ that?" I muttered under my breath.

"I was just making sure you came up okay," said Peter cheerfully, grinning at my annoyed expression.

"Isn't he sweet?" Kim sighed. "You're so lucky, Wendy. You have such a caring boyfriend."

I nearly strangled myself.

Caring boyfriend indeed. He cares so much that he won't leave me the hell alone!

"Well since you're all here," I said dully, "we might as well go inside." I knocked on my own door, considering my keys were probably lying at the bottom of the ocean by now.

My mother answered the door. She looked thrilled to see Kim and Zandra and even more thrilled to see Peter. "Come in! Come in!" she cried, letting us pass. "Wendy, darling, how did you like your date? Good heavens, child! Why are you all wet?"

"Funny story actually," I said nervously. "Had to do with a rainstorm and a moped but I won't get into that now. I'm going to go change, alright mum?" I kissed her on the cheek. "Zandra, Kim…follow me." Peter started walking too but I turned around and pushed my hand into his chest. "I'm going to _change my clothes. _You should stay out here."

Peter grinned at me sheepishly. "Oh, right."

After locking myself up in the solitude of my bedroom with my two best friends, I spun on them and said, "What am I going to do? How do I get rid of him?"

"Rid of him?" Kim repeated. "Are you crazy? How are your knees _not _weak after you look into those dreamy…green…eyes…" She sank down at the foot of Michael's bed. Which, I realized, had Michael in it.

Michael blinked sleepily. "What are you all talking about?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Why don't you find John, eh?"

"Mum took him to the library," Michael replied as he sat up.

"Could you please go out in the hallway, then, for a second?" I asked sweetly. "I'm going to get dressed."

Michael yawned and drifted dreamily across the room to where he opened my door. Peter toppled inside. It appeared as if Peter had been trying to eavesdrop.

"Peter!" I exclaimed, shocked.

"Oops," he replied quickly. "Sorry, I thought this was the bathroom. My mistake."

Michael frowned. "He listens to people go to the bathroom?"

"Michael," I cut in, "why don't you keep Peter company while I get dressed? You'll shut the door behind you, won't you? Thank you, Michael." The door closed once more. I sighed in relief.

"Aw, he was listening to what you were saying about him," Zandra cooed. "That's so sweet. He must worry about what you think of him."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Explaining things to my friends was like talking to a brick wall. "Okay," I sighed. "There's no winning with you two. I might as well put on a happy face and let Peter prove himself to me."

"You should wear a miniskirt," said Kim, ignoring what I just said. "Guys like miniskirts."

I stared at her. "I am _not _going to wear a miniskirt! I don't think I even _have _a miniskirt!"

"Well if we had gone shopping, like you promised," said Zandra accusingly, "then you _would _have one."

"You two are unbelievable! Why is everyone taking Peter's side in this?" I asked crossly.

"Because you're being stubborn," said Kim. "This isn't the Wendy I know. The Wendy _I _know is sweet and well mannered who only gets anal if someone spills something and doesn't clean it up. You're a very caring person, Wendy, and I know you have a soft side. Peter's going to give up on you if you don't show him that."

"Show him what?" I asked, giving her an odd look.

"Your legs," Kim replied. "Like I said, wear a miniskirt."

I ignored this comment and said, "Do you both really think I'm being a little harsh with this? I mean, I did agree to give him another chance…"

Kim smiled at me. "What harm could it do?"

A lot, apparently.

The moment I stepped outside my bedroom door in some dry jeans and a t-shirt (and _not _a miniskirt) with a shy smile and a warm hello to Peter, I was instantly taken advantage of.

"You know," said Peter, watching me suspiciously, "I'm a bit hungry considering I had to fight pirates and everything this afternoon…Would you mind making me a sandwich?"

I closed my eyes. _Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream,_ I told myself. _He was just kidding. He didn't mean it. _

"Hold the mayo. That stuff makes my tummy feel funny," Peter added as he sat down on the couch next to Michael.

I looked to Kim and Zandra. They were nodding in encouragement. Did they actually think that him asking me to make a sandwich for him was entirely polite?

I dug my fingernails into my palms as I wandered into the kitchen. "Oh no, we're out of bread!" I called out to Peter, pretending to sound disappointed.

"What are you talking about?" my mother asked, coming in and pointing to the loaf of bread on the counter. "We have plenty."

So I made him a sandwich. I never felt so humiliated in my life; he should be the one making _me _a sandwich. I would have added extra mayonnaise too, if only we had any in the fridge. It was nearly three in the afternoon when we all walked out onto the sidewalk again as Peter commented on how weird his sandwich tasted. Ignoring these comments, I forced myself to listen to my friends as they argued over what we would do for the remainder of the day. Peter wanted to take us all bowling, Kim wanted to go clubbing, and Zandra thought it would be nice if we all got some ice cream. I just wanted to stay home.

"How about this," Peter suggested. "Why don't we go to my apartment and pick up my friends and then go bowling? There's an arcade in the bowling alley and I'm sure they have a DDR machine…which is kind of like clubbing minus the alcohol. And, I know for a fact that the snack bar has ice cream."

Oh, so everyone got what they wanted except me.

"Okay," I sighed as Kim and Zandra nodded in agreement. "Bowling it is."

Being nice was way too much work.

--

**A/N: I tried to make Wendy sweeter XD I'm not sure it worked though. **


	10. Dangerous Stakes

Peter's apartment was a pigsty.

I'm not saying that just to be rude because it seriously was. I supposed that's all I could expect from a boy living with six other guys in a two-bedroom apartment. Peter, of course, had the master suite while the twins took the smaller bedroom and everyone else camped out on the multiple couches.

Like I said, it was a mess.

"Do you have a maid?" I asked, bending down to examine the mold growing on an old piece of pizza.

"A maid?" Peter questioned, distracted. "No, of course not."

"It shows," I muttered. Peter pretended not to hear me as he knocked the pizza off of the counter with a sweep of his hand. It landed smoothly in the trashcan with an unnerving squelching noise.

We were all standing around waiting for Slightly to get out of the shower. I was edging around the kitchen, unconsciously throwing things away and wiping away stains with the sponge that magically appeared in my fingers.

"What are you doing?" Binky asked. Or…maybe it was Marmaduke. It was difficult to tell them apart.

"Who are you, our mother?" Tootles added.

I rinsed out the sponge in the sink and said, "I might as well be. The way you people are living it's like you've never even heard of a mother."

Peter and Tootles exchanged looks as Kim and Zandra pondered over a mysterious orange blobby thing that was oozing down a leg to the kitchen table. "What do you think it is?" Kim asked, poking it with a dirty spoon. "It kind of reminds me of a soggy cheetoh."

I was about to attack whatever it was with a sponge when something came streaking out of the living room to latch onto my face and knock me down onto the cheap linoleum floor. I started screaming as I thrashed violently, trying to get the assaulter off of me.

"Bad Tinkerbell! Stop! _Stop!_" Peter bellowed as he wrenched the little devil off of me. He held the cat by the scruff of her neck and looked straight into her eyes. "You're a bad kitty."

The cat made a low growling sound in protest.

"Wendy!" Peter cried with a determined look on his face. "Open the window."

There was a window over the sink. I hastened to open it.

"That'll teach you not to maul our guests," Peter told Tinkerbell sternly before he impressively swung his arm and slung the cat out through the window of the top floor of the apartment building. Tinkerbell yowled as she cut through the air and disappeared beneath the ledge of the open window.

"Oh my _God_," Kim, Zandra, and I chorused in horror.

Peter turned to look at me with a puzzled expression on his face. "Is something wrong?" he inquired as he brushed his hands together to get rid of excess cat hair.

"You just threw a cat out the window!" I exclaimed, deciding I could add animal cruelty to Peter's long list of character flaws.

Peter cocked an eyebrow. "There _is _a balcony." He brought me to the window to show me the narrow platform that led to the fire escape. Tinkerbell was sitting down with her back to us, licking her paw and trying to get her dignity back.

"Oh," I said, slightly disappointed.

"You're still my best girl, Tink," Peter called out to the cat. Tinkerbell made no response that she had heard. Peter sighed. "That cat's been with me forever but I swear she never respects any of my girlfriends."

I raised my eyebrows but decided not to comment.

A door creaked open and our entire group turned to face where the bathroom was. Slightly was walking out into the living room in a cloud of billowing steam smelling strongly of strawberries. Wrapped around him was a fluffy yellow bathrobe.

Slightly looked up at us, his hair twisted up in a towel. He promptly yelped and dove behind a couch. "I didn't know we had company!" he shouted, clearly outraged.

"Did you see him?" Kim whispered to Zandra. "He was kinda cute."

I closed my eyes. I hate my friends.

"Okay then," said Peter, his voice awfully high. "I think it's time to go."

"Yeah, bowling is starting to look really good right about now," I said quickly as I grabbed Peter's hand and dragged him towards the door. "Let's get out of here."

"Don't leave without me!" Slightly called as he tried to stand up and run to one of the bedroom doors. Unfortunately (and I mean extremely unfortunately), he tripped over a pillow and his robe flew up over his head.

Zandra and Kim gasped in shock…though suspiciously enough they were the only ones who didn't have the decency to look away. Once again, I hate my friends. After we all recovered, we left the apartment with Slightly still inside.

We had been at the bowling alley for a good ten minutes before Slightly had caught up with us. I could tell he was trying to keep a low profile to minimize embarrassment by the way he was crouching down behind a large potted fern to eat a hotdog. Peter, however, had taken everyone's shoe sizes and was busying himself at the counter to order us those funky bowling shoes.

I decided to crouch behind the potted fern too. "Who are we hiding from, eh?" I asked, pretending I hadn't remembered what had happened back in the apartment.

"Captain Hook," said Slightly without missing a beat as he decorated his hotdog with ketchup and mustard.

I blinked. "Wait…_what?_"

"Yeah, he's just over there." Slightly pointed a few lanes over to where Hook was having trouble picking up a bowling ball with one hand. His assistant, Smee, was trying to help him but all he managed to do was drop the ball on Hook's unsuspecting big toe.

"And _when _were you planning on telling Peter about this?" I hissed to him, edging around the pot to get a better look.

"Oh, when he came back with our shoes," Slightly replied with his mouth full of food, his still-wet, blond hair falling into his face. "Not to worry, Peter is an excellent bowler."

"I don't think his bowling skills are what I'm worrying about," I told him, starting to freak out. What if Hook saw us and started shooting at us? What if he shot Kim or Zandra? Or Peter?

Before I knew what I was doing, I raced across the floor to where the shoe ordering counter was and tugged desperately on Peter's sleeve. "Oh," he said in surprise, "did your feet get bigger in the few minutes that I've been gone? I should probably get you an eight rather than a seven-and-a-half."

"No, Peter," I whispered quickly. "Hook's here!"

Peter turned to me and raised his eyebrows. "I know," he said simply, looking at me as if I were being particularly foolish. "It's a Saturday. This is Hook's evening to bowl. You see, when I'm not looking out for my helplessly lost boys, I'm keeping tabs on Hook's schedule. I have to make sure he's not plotting against me, of course." He pulled a pair of shoes off of the counter and handed them to me. "Here, Wendy, try these on."

I stared at him. "You _knew _Hook would be here?"

"Well I wasn't completely certain," said Peter with a careless shrug. "After all, he just lost his chances of conquering the famed sandwich shop so I thought he might have been too depressed to come out and play today. Either that, or he could have been dead. I didn't know if he had lived when you sunk the ship."

This time I gaped at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Wendy?" Peter asked with a frown. "Do the shoes not fit?"

He knew very well that it had nothing to do with the shoes considering that I hadn't even kneeled down to put them on. "You're unbelievable, Peter. You've put all of our lives in danger. How could you not tell us that Hook would probably be here?"

"Actually, the chances of him being here wasn't probable at all…But I'll let that one slide. Anyways, I didn't put any of your lives in danger. The pirates came here to bowl and that's just what they'll do. In fact-"

_"Peter Pan," _a voice seethed from behind us. We spun around to face Captain Hook himself. He was holding a hotdog like it was a sword and his eyes were glued to Peter's face.

"Evening, Hook," said Peter coolly.

The pirate closed his eyes in irritation. "_James. _My name is _James._"

"Evening, then, James Hook," replied Peter, obviously relishing the annoyed look on the pirate captain's face.

"You're lucky I don't shoot you and your little girlfriend right now," Hook hissed, patting the front of his black leather trench coat as if there were a weapon hidden somewhere beneath it.

"Oh, Hookypoo," said Peter, waggling his finger sternly. "We both know you wouldn't shoot anyone in such a crowded place. I'm certain you deal with enough criticism as it is. You know, with you being a cripple and all."

Hook lunched at Peter and knocked him down, clubbing him over the head with my bowling shoes. "Say that again," Hook bellowed angrily. "I dare you!"

"Cripple!" Peter cried. "You crippled codfish!"

"Peter!" I called out in horror. Even if Hook was a jerk, it wasn't right to tease him for his lack of a hand…especially since Peter was the one who caused him to lose the pirate's hand in the first place. "Both of you, _stop! STOP!_" The two brawling guys paused momentarily to look at me expectantly. "Both of you should be ashamed of yourselves! You're both acting like insufferable asses. Now, _I_ know how we can settle this."

"Nothing can redeem Peter for what he did to me years ago," Hook growled, straightening up and staring down at Peter, whom of which was still on the floor.

"And nothing can redeem Hook for his life of piracy," Peter added, mimicking Hook's irritated manner.

"Well, I suppose the two of you will just have to manage with what we've got. Let's see, we're in a bowling alley. I suggest a bowling competition. If that doesn't work, we can always resort to DDR." I crossed my arms and pretended to be brave.

"The stakes?" Peter questioned.

"I'll name the stakes," Hook cut in. The pirate turned to look at me up and down. He gave me a horrible smile before turning back to Peter and muttering something under his breath.

"Deal," said Peter quickly as he shook Hook's remaining hand.

"Wait, what?" I asked, suspicious. "What are the stakes? I couldn't hear him."

Hook purposefully grinned at me as Peter answered me for him.

"A kiss."

--

**A/N: Hehehe I think Wendy got more than she bargained for. Review!**


	11. The Stakes Get Higher

I started laughing at Hook. "Why on earth would you want to kiss Peter?"

Peter and Hook exchanged looks. "I don't think she gets it," Peter muttered, scratching his chin. He sighed and looked straight into my eyes. "He meant you, Wendy."

I stopped laughing.

Oh _hell _no.

"This is a joke right?" I demanded. "You're joking." I saw the expressions on both their faces. "Oh my God you're serious."

Peter grinned at me apologetically.

"Deal's off!" I exclaimed. "There's no way you're getting me to cooperate. I'm not even involved in this! You can't just make me-"

"We already shook hands on it," Peter pointed out. "Besides, you've kissed me before back at the dock. It should be a walk in the park for you. I mean, we both know that Hook's going to lose miserably anyways."

"That was _not _a kiss," I protested. "I bet you don't even know the difference between a kiss and a thimble."

"I certainly do too!" Peter cried, clearly outraged.

"I could always kill Peter and call it a day," Hook suggested as he started to remove the pistol from his trench coat. Peter held up his hands hastily and told Hook to put the weapon away.

I closed my eyes and swore under my breath. I can't believe what I was about to get myself into.

"Peter, you'd better win."

--

Slightly hadn't been kidding when he told me Peter was an excellent bowler. Peter sure was quite light on his feet and had extraordinarily accurate aim, for it was strike after strike.

Hook however, was also a good bowler…once he got a good grip on the bowling ball that is. He was also making several strikes. Things were definitely heating up…until Hook only knocked over nine pins.

"Ha!" Peter boasted, clearly proud of himself. "Wendy, prepare to pucker up!"

Hook cursed very loudly and I asked him if he needed bumpers placed in his lane. He cursed once more and told me to sit down and shut up.

I had the feeling Hook didn't like me all that much.

The pirate captain poised himself, looking over his raised bowling ball at the last remaining pin. Focused, he set his lips in a tight line and swung his uninjured arm backwards, preparing for a spare.

"Don't screw this one up!" Peter shouted right before Hook was about to drop the ball on the slick wooden floor.

Lucky for Hook, he didn't drop the ball. Instead, he stumbled slightly before catching himself. He spun around and glared at Peter. "I need _absolute _silence. If you cheat, then you forfeit and I get your girlfriend no questions asked."

Why was I constantly referred to as Peter's girlfriend? I _did _have a name.

Peter gestured to Hook for him to hurry up and bowl. Hook prepared himself again to defeat this last pin and swung his arm out again.

"You can do it Cap'n!" Smee bellowed, surprising the bowling pirate.

Hook wasn't so lucky this time. The bowling ball swerved to the right and instantly went into the gutter. The captain roared in anger and grabbed Smee by the scruff of his flabby neck and proceeded to toss the stooped, middle-aged man down the bowling lane. Smee slid the entire way and got himself stuck in the pin disposal.

"Aw, now that ain't right," said Peter somberly. "There's no need for poor sportsmanship. You still have a chance if I miss this last shot." Peter then laughed softly to himself before adding, "Emphasis on _if_."

I handed Peter his lucky green bowling ball and watched as he walked up to his wooden lane. "Please, please, please," I chanted under my breath. "Please win, Peter."

Peter began to prepare himself as he held the bowling ball under one arm and took the time to flex the muscles in his other. He then took the ball in his slim fingers and squinted his eyes against the reflecting light off of the waxed floor.

"Please win."

He swung his arm out to release the ball.

"Please."

The ball hit the floor with an unnerving crack and spun dangerously towards its goal.

"_Please." _

All of ten pins fell over.

"YES!" I cheered as my friends and the lost boys all jumped up and started clapping Peter on the back. Peter held up his hands and the noise died down.

"Now," said Peter softly to a very anguished Hook. "I am decent man. And as a decent man, I will offer you best out of three."

_What? _I wedged myself between Peter and Hook. "No, that's enough. You've won Peter. It's time that we all go home."

"Wendy, I know you're desperate to kiss me," said Peter mockingly, "but let's not be rude to Mr. Hook over here."

"Fine," the pirate agreed. "Best out of three."

"And," Peter added, "I have raised the stakes." He flicked invisible dust off of his shoulders before continuing. "Winner gets bragging rights and two of Wendy's kisses."

I opened my mouth to argue.

"Loser," Peter went on, "has to kiss Smee."

"Shoot," Smee muttered as he crossed his arms and sat down.

Hook narrowed his eyes. "Deal. What's the next competition?"

Peter glanced at me. "Wendy?" he prompted.

I tapped my bottom lip with my index finger in thought. "Everyone," I announced, "cough up! I need enough money to buy like fifty hot dogs. We're having an eating contest ladies and gents."

--

We all gathered around the painted, hard plastic picnic tables after having made several trips to the snack bar. Each plate was piled high with ten hot dogs all smothered with ketchup to make them more slippery and therefore more challenging to eat.

"Does anyone have a digital watch with a timer?" I asked the crowd of friends and foes. Slightly offered his up. I took it and set the timer to zero. "Alright! Peter and Hook: you each have two minutes to eat as many hot dogs as you can. The competition stops when you either run out of time, run out of hot dogs, or run out of breath. I warn you, I will not perform CPR on anyone. Good luck, gentlemen."

_"Get ready." _

Hook tucked a napkin into the collar of his coat.

_"Get set." _

Peter gave me a reassuring smile.

_"GO!" _

Both guys started shoving the disgusting mystery meat into their mouths. Peter, actually, shoved four into his mouth in belief that they would go faster that way. Unfortunately, Peter started choking and he fell sideways off his bench as tears sprang to his eyes. As much as I wanted to help him, I kept my promise and I didn't make a move to assist him. Peter started writhing on the floor, attempting to hack up the ends of four, half-eaten hot dogs while Hook had already downed five-and-a-half.

"Peter, get up!" I snapped at him. "You're embarrassing me."

"I'm…dying…," Peter gasped, clutching his throat. The timer on Slightly's watch went off, alerting everyone that the competition was over.

"Dammit, Peter," I sighed, tossing the watch back to its owner. "What on earth was that?"

Peter's windpipe seemed to have suddenly cleared as he straightened up and spat chewed-up hot dog onto the shiny floor. "I don't need the calories anyways. Okay, so it's one to one. I still have one more competition to win."

I rolled my eyes as Hook started dancing, badly, to brag that he had won. This gave me an idea so I said, "Next competition: a dance off." I still could remember what a dancing god Peter had been back in The Mermaid Lagoon. I smirked at my own cleverness.

"I'm not going to dance!" Hook snapped.

"What, are you _scared_?" Peter sneered, wiping ketchup from his mouth.

"No," Hook denied, crossing his arms. "I just don't want to have the unfair advantage over you."

"Oh?" questioned Peter, cocking an eyebrow. "You think you can dance better than me?"

"I _know_," Hook corrected him.

My smile widened. "Quarters, anyone?"

It was off to the DDR machine.

--

Now, the DDR machine in the arcade had two platforms so that people could compete. It cost fifty cents to play one game for two people. As Peter and Hook took their places, I went to the computer screen and looked through the songs.

"Which song do you two want to dance to?" I asked, frowning at the list.

Peter stepped on the down arrow on his platform to land on "It's Raining Men" while Hook stomped on the up arrow to pick "Edge of Seventeen."

"Stevie Nicks!" Hook snapped.

"The Weather Girls!" Peter snarled back.

"HEY!" I shouted, earning their attention. "You guys need to grow up."

Hook and Peter looked at each other. Peter was smirking. Ignoring this, I pointed on the song between the two they wanted. It was "Hotel California" by the Eagles and it was listed as medium in difficulty. "Do that one," I suggested.

"Are you happy?" Peter asked Hook suspiciously.

"No. Are you?" Hook replied.

"No," said Peter cheerfully. "Let's do 'Hotel California' then." They stomped on their arrows to select the song. The music started up.

The dance moves, of course, were slow at first. _"'On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair-'" _Peter's feet were placed carefully on the arrows as his eyes were glued to the computer screen. It seemed that whoever had made the DDR machine had adapted the songs to make it easier to dance to. This meant that "Hotel California" was being played twice as fast as normal in an unnerving chipmunk voice.

_"'And I was thinking to myself, this could be heaven or this could be hell…'"_

Peter's feet were flying, his narrow hips were pivoting, and he was even doing moves with his upper half that were quite unnecessary but were merely for showing off. Hook, however, was struggling to keep up with the steps so was instead trying to beat Peter over the head with his hook.

_"'You can checkout any time you like, but you can never leave!'"_ A crazy guitar solo followed and this was Peter's time to shine. He was so fast at hitting all of the steps that he couldn't seem to resist putting his left foot out and playing a few of the arrows on Hook's platform to show how great he really was.

Hook clearly had enough of this and before Peter had the chance to finish up the song, Hook tried to step off his platform to give up. Instead, the captain slipped. He threw out his arms to catch himself but his hooked hand accidentally caught the cord plugging the DDR machine into the wall. The electric line tore and sparked, causing the arcade game to promptly blow up.

We all started screaming as Peter was blown backwards into the wall, his platform flying completely in another direction. I ran to help Peter up. He was clutching the back of his head dizzily as he struggled to walk. Hook was straightening up, coughing into his sleeve conspicuously as he tried to blend into the wall.

"Maybe it's time to get out of here," I whispered to Peter as security guards came running towards the billowing flames eating at the carpet.

"I agree," Peter replied as he grabbed my hand and pulled me out into the actual bowling alley. We broke through a gathering crowd of onlookers and slid across four bowling lanes, hopping over the gutters and dodging stray balls. We exited outside through the emergency door into the falling twilight. Hook, his cronies, and our friends were right behind us.

We gasped for breath out on the sidewalk as we came to a stop.

Peter was looking extremely proud with himself as he turned to Hook and said, "Smee's waiting."

Smee was turning red and was looking somewhere to hide. Hook, annoyed, grabbed Smee and kissed the top of the short man's balding head. Zandra, Kim, and I burst out laughing.

"That wasn't a kiss!" Peter protested angrily.

"You failed to specify where," Hook reminded Peter as he wiped his mouth.

"Good point!" I exclaimed cheerfully. "That means Peter doesn't have to-"

My words were cut off by the opening of the emergency door. Security guards spilled out onto the sidewalk. "You there!" one shouted at us.

We scattered in all directions.

Laughing, Peter grabbed my hand and pulled me out into the street through the spaces between the cars stopped in a major traffic jam. I was dragged through an unfamiliar grassy strip of scrawny trees situated between two large buildings before we broke out through the other side onto another sidewalk. Building lamps lighted our way as our feet pounded off into the gathering darkness.

--

**A/N: Heh…I wonder where **_**they're**_** headed off to. Oh yeah, please remember to review cuz I'd love to know what y'all think. **


	12. In Which Gravity Fails To Exist

When we finally stopped to catch our breaths (okay, just my breath), I had no idea where we were. "What do you think happened to the others?" I managed to gasp out to Peter.

"I don't know," he admitted, not seeming tired in the least. "I guess we should try getting back to my apartment. If the boys are going anywhere, it will be there...assuming they haven't managed to lose themselves along the way." Peter scowled at this. "That tends to happen a lot."

"How are we going to find your apartment?" I asked, clutching the stitch in my side. "Do you even know where we are?"

"Probably," said Peter cheerfully. "I've lived here longer than you think. Though…I've never memorized street signs. C'mon, we have to get somewhere high."

"Pardon?" I inquired as he yanked on my hand again and dragged me towards what looked like a cheap apartment building similar to Peter's. He pulled me inside and we found no elevator, just some spiraling stairs. "There's no way you're making me climb up that," I told him stubbornly.

"Fine," said Peter, sticking his tongue out at me. "Hop on my back."

_"Pardon?"_

"Just do it," he told me, trying not to sound annoyed.

Well, if it meant that I didn't have to climb a gazillion steps then I was all for it. He gave me a piggyback ride all the way to the top of building. He was fast, too.

At the top, there was a door with a sign that said, "To the Roof." I gave Peter a nervous look as he pushed me through the door in front of him. There was a flight of narrow steps that opened out on an abandoned stretch of concrete. There were a few lights and a large TV antenna stretching out towards the heavens. Despite the car exhaust rising from the street and bright lights coming from surrounding buildings, I could actually see the stars. I figured I haven't seen much of them in the five years that I've lived in New York.

"Wow," I said, despite the unnerving fact that there was a chilly breeze flapping against my clothes.

"It sure is something, huh?" Peter asked me, without looking up at the sky.

That's when I realized he was looking at me.

I turned away from him, wondering if it was an accident that we ended up alone together. Knowing Peter, it was probably intentional. Clearing my throat I said, "Do you know where we are now?"

"Oh," said Peter, sounding slightly disappointed. "Yeah. Look down that street to the right. You see that one window where some idiot still has their Christmas lights still up?"

"Yeah," I said, squinting to see the colorful bulbs.

"Okay, look pass that to the drunk guy on the roof who looks like he's going to jump off," Peter went on, not sounded disturbed at all.

"Alright."

"Do you see the building with all the dogs on it? That's my apartment building," Peter finished.

"Why are there dogs on top?" I asked, frowning.

"One of our neighbors', I guess. There aren't supposed to be animals in the apartment. You know, Tinkerbell likes to get the dogs to chase her so they fall to their deaths. Luckily, I've told her off for such things so nothing's happened yet."

I looked at him in alarm. I was starting to like his cat less and less. "I used to have a dog named Nana," I told Peter after a moment's thought. "But we left her back in London with my father."

Peter nodded solemnly as he led me towards the edge of the building. I peaked over the ledge at the very narrow alley below and suddenly felt extremely dizzy. Peter squeezed my hand. "You want to do something fun?" he asked, grinning impishly at me. That was never a good sign.

"Define fun," I said nervously.

"Well, do you trust me?" he asked, still harboring that crazed grin.

"Not at all," I told him swiftly. How could I trust him when he looked like something out of _The Shining_?

"Do you feel my hand?" he asked me, ignoring my last comment. He gave me another squeeze.

I nodded. "Of course I do."

"Now, I want you to focus on how my hand feels, okay?"

His hand was surprisingly rough and callous now that I concentrated on it. I ran my thumb along the inside of his hand, tracing his lifeline. He had one long lifeline.

"Wendy, close your eyes," Peter whispered, his lips barely touching my ear.

I did as he told me.

"Keep holding that hand and don't let go, okay? Promise?"

I nodded as Peter pulled me back, away from the ledge. He then surprised me by surging forward and yanking me after him. That's when we became airborne. I could feel the wind rushing beneath my shoes as we rocked through the air.

But it was all over very quickly.

I landed, surprisingly lightly, on solid ground. This was when I deemed it safe to open my eyes. We were on a roof of a building, but it wasn't the roof we had started out on. I looked over my shoulder and discovered we had gone straight over the dark alleyway.

I gaped at Peter. "What the hell just happened?"

He gave me a wry smile. "I'm a very good jumper."

"I'll say!" I exclaimed. "That was incredible! How did you learn to do that?"

"Lots and lots of practice," he replied. "Though I congratulate myself on managing to impress you."

I stuck my bottom lip out at him in protest.

"Better poke that back in before a bird lands on it," Peter advised me wisely.

I went with his advice.

"Now," said Peter, "we are going to run. You can keep your eyes open this time."

So we ran.

I barely felt the cold as we raced across the rooftops, hand in hand, jumping over alleyways and narrow streets. The impossibility of it all didn't even enter my mind; I was too wrapped up in the whirl of color and the thick smell of asphalt and oil rising up from the streets. It was like we were caught on the wind, otherwise ignoring the laws of nature.

No, we _were _the wind.

"Wendy stop," a voice whispered gently. "We're here. Stop."

_Stop, Wendy. _

I blinked. Large dogs were barking at us from a small fenced-in pen. Peter was holding my shoulders firmly as if he expected my legs to fold in on me at any moment. In fact, I could barely feel them beneath me.

"Wendy, you're shaking," Peter observed, sounding alarmed.

I looked at my hands. Whether it was from the cold or the rush of running so quickly, I was indeed shaking. My fingers were pale and there were goose bumps on my arms. That's when I started to convince myself that I was only dreaming.

"Are you cold?" Peter asked frantically. "God, Wendy, I didn't mean to-Are you okay?" He rubbed my white hands with his, trying to warm mine up. "Say something!"

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," I told him, rather dreamily.

"Oh my God, I've broken Wendy," Peter whispered, looking horrified.

I crossed my arms, removing my hands from his.

The horrified look erased itself from Peter's face. "Oh no…Wait. There she is," he said cheerfully.

"As exciting as that was, I would like to go home now," I told him with a sigh. "Fairytales aren't always what they're cracked up to be. However, as you did beat Hook overall in the competitions, I will remain true to the bargain. I owe you two kisses."

Peter smirked.

"And lucky enough for the both of us, I have already kissed you twice. On both cheeks. Remember?" Now it was my turn to smirk. "My debt has already been paid. Now, can we please get off this roof?"

"That's not fair!" Peter argued, sounding very much like a child. "Those particular kisses were of your own free will. What I have won falls under my terms and therefore my rules."

I leaned in to kiss him.

He stopped me by placing a warm finger against my lips. "Were you not listening?" he whispered. "I decide when I am to collect your dues. Why would I want to kiss you now? Your lips are blue and I imagine it would be like making out with a snowman."

I scowled at him. "If Hook only had to kiss Smee on the head then I can just do the same. There will be no making out for either of us."

The dogs started barking more loudly, as if in protest at this information. Peter merely turned around and glared at the animals before they fell silent. The boy turned back to me looking quite smug, his green eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Peter then busied himself with curling a lock of my hair around his finger before saying, "Trust me, Wendy. When I decide the time is right for me to gather my prize, you will be _begging_ to make out with me."

--

**A/N: Me thinks Peter is a bit too cocky. Okay, honestly I **_**hated **_**this chapter. The idea of them "flying/jumping/running-across-rooftops/whatever" does not sit too well with me, especially considering there hasn't been much of that hullabaloo in any of the other chapters. SO, I hope I'm wrong about this…but yeah. Tell me what you all think. In addition, I must admit that I'm not particularly good at writing romantic scenes and furthermore, I hate writing them period. **

**Oh yeah, I hope my fellow Americans enjoyed a wonderful Fourth of July…and even if you aren't American…I hope you enjoyed a happy fourth as well XD**


	13. In Which Gravity STILL Fails To Exist

Everyone had, indeed, made it back safely to Peter's apartment…except for Zandra and Kim. According to Slightly, they had gone home. After hearing this news, Peter brought it upon himself to bring me back to my apartment as well.

Sunday passed by slowly because I had to baby-sit my brothers and start on my homework for school. That night, however, I had a dream that Peter could fly and that he was perched on the sill of my open window, watching as I pretended to sleep. He said that he had a secret to tell me but before he could say what it was, my bedroom door opened and my mother poked her head in, causing Peter to leap backwards into the night.

I awoke at the crack of dawn Monday morning to John shaking me roughly. He pulled on my hand and dragged me out of bed and over to the window. There was a note addressed to me taped to the glass. What chilled me the most was that the note was on my side of the window and that the window appeared to be locked.

_Good morning Wendy, _the note said. _Save a spot for me on the bus. _

My eyes widened. That was a joke right? Peter had to only have been joking. Before I could ponder the note further, my mother came in and told me to hurry up and get dressed. She handed me my school uniform and told me she just ironed it for me.

My school uniform wasn't that bad as school uniforms went. I wore either a black skirt or black pants with a white blouse and a dark green vest. We could wear a tie if we wanted to but I usually didn't.

Our school mascot was a tree.

After dressing and combing my hair up into a ponytail, I went out to eat a poptart with my brothers. They went to the same school as me but, of course, they were in different buildings considering their younger ages. When we were finished eating, we all grabbed our backpacks and made our way down to the lobby to wait for the school bus.

We only had to wait a few minutes before we were picked up. Unfortunately, looking out the window, I could see a familiar figure walking down the sidewalk towards our bus. "Step on it mister!" I shouted to the driver. "That boy's an imposter!" Indeed, Peter was wearing a uniform to match my own (except for the skirt part) and he was trying to pass as a student. The driver, not recognizing Peter, stepped on the gas and zoomed off, leaving Peter waving after us.

Smugly, I turned to face forwards in my seat. We had assigned spots on the bus and my bench buddy was a thick muscle man with heavy eyebrows. I was always too frightened to ask his name so I just called him Goliath in my head. Furthermore, he was trying to get my attention by nudging me with his sausage fingers.

_Yes, Goliath? _I asked in my mind. To him, however, I just raised my eyebrows.

"Who was that?" Goliath asked. I had never heard him speak in all of the times we had sat next to each other. His voice was so surprisingly high and squeaky and almost like a girl's that I suddenly began to worry if Goliath actually _was _a girl.

"Just a boy I know," I replied, trying to be as vague as possible.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Goliath pressed.

Well, now, I wasn't sure how to answer that. You'd think if I were his girlfriend, I wouldn't ask the bus driver to blast off without him. But then again, I had agreed to go on a date with Peter. Therefore, I decided the best thing to do was to yawn and pretend I hadn't heard Goliath's last question.

The bus made it to school just as the bell was ringing. Although my school was private, it didn't mean that it didn't receive the effects of the city. Gum peppered the sidewalk as I stepped out onto the courtyard and made my way to the front of the tall brick building. I went to my locker (which strangely enough was right next to Goliath's as well) to empty my backpack of my pre-calculus book and history binder. My first class was English so all I needed to get was a composition book and a pen.

"Miss Darling," my English teacher greeted me as I entered her class. Ms. Limone was probably in her late twenties to early thirties with perfectly curled blonde hair and severe blue eyes. Although she was young and seemingly pretty, she was a hard ass when it came to grading.

I took my normal seat somewhat towards the front behind the Gothic girl who smelled kind of funny. I didn't have many friends in my English class so I rarely talked. That was why Ms. Limone liked me.

"Oh, and Wendy," Limone chirped as I took out my composition book, "I'm glad you're here. I got a note from the front office saying that we have a new student."

Oh…

"Apparently, the boy requested to have your exact schedule."

No…

"He said he knew you? Yes, well, I hope you'll be polite and show him around the school," said Limone cheerfully. "Say hello to Peter."

I followed her gaze and looked over my shoulder at the students sitting at the back of the classroom. Peter was sitting in the darkened corner looking extremely smug. He wiggled his fingers in my direction. I turned quickly to face the front. How did he get here so fast?

"Mr. Pan, why don't you go and sit behind Miss Darling?" the teacher suggested.

"I would _love _to," Peter declared as he stood up to take the seat behind mine. He tugged playfully on my ponytail. "Long time no see," he muttered in my ear.

"Mr. Pan?" Limone called sternly. "Although you are new here, that doesn't exempt you from the rules. There will be no talking in this classroom."

I smirked.

"My apologies, Ms. Limone," Peter replied solemnly. "I was merely asking Wendy where we left off reading. We are on the poetry section, correct? If so, I'd like to read aloud."

Ms. Limone blinked in surprise. "Actually, we just finished up some of Shakespeare…I was going to assign a poetry project today in which everyone is to pick their favorite poem, memorize it, and analyze it."

"Well, then," said Peter sweetly, "it's a good thing I've already memorized _my_ favorite poem." Peter cleared his throat. _"'And by the moon the reaper weary, piling sheaves in uplands airy, listening, whispers, "Tis the fairy…The Lady of Shalott."' _Those are my favorite lines in the entire poem." Peter, of course, had been quoting from "The Lady of Shalott" by Lord Alfred Tennyson.

"You know that entire poem?" Limone asked, clearly impressed.

"Yes, miss, I do," Peter replied, pretending not to be proud of himself. I scowled at him over my shoulder.

"How extraordinary," Limone commented. "You like poetry I presume?"

"Very much so," replied Peter. "Reading, whether it be poetry or prose, is one of my favorite pastimes."

"Who is your favorite author?" the teacher inquired.

Peter sighed. "It's hard to say. There are too many good writers out there."

"I agree, though I am particularly fond of J.M. Barrie. Have you ever read the play 'The Admirable Crichton'?" Limone added, looking hopeful. This was starting to annoy me. Peter had only been at my school five minutes and he was already teacher's pet. I opened up my composition book and started doodling a cartoon version of Peter getting eaten by a shark.

When the bell finally rang for me to go to chemistry, I tried to lose Peter in the hallway. Unfortunately, he easily caught up with me and put his arm around my shoulders. _"'She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, the Lady of Shalott,'" _Peter whispered to me in a hushed voice.

"Be quiet," I snapped. "Stop showing off."

"I was doing you a favor," Peter told me.

"Oh?" I inquired, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Duh," said Peter. "Because I was talking to her the entire period, Ms. Limone forgot to assign us all our project. And she didn't ask for you all to turn in your homework."

"I _did_ my homework though!" I protested.

"Yes, but I used the back of that Shakespeare essay to write you the cryptic note I left on your window," Peter told me cheerfully. "I read the essay by the way. You could have done _a lot _better. No pressure though; I understand if you were distracted by thoughts about me while you were trying to get your work done last night."

I gaped at him. "You're so conceited! In case you didn't know, the world _doesn't_ revolve around you."

"Then why does it revolve?" Peter asked me wryly.

"Um, _gravity?_" I suggested, rolling my eyes.

"Psh, don't tell me you believe in that gravity crap. I have perfect proof that it doesn't exist. Tsk. _Gravity._" Peter crossed his arms at this apparent nonsense.

"Science class should be interesting."

And it was. We had a lab and during it, Peter tripped me so that I fell and my test tube exploded. My chemistry teacher teased me that I didn't get along with gravity too well, causing Peter to protest in outrage about gravity's existence. In the end, Mr. Kragel nearly busted an artery shouting obscenities at Peter for being difficult and Peter was landed with an after school detention.

So apparently he wasn't always teacher's pet.

Peter proceeded to sulk all throughout the next two class periods at the indecency of it all. I, meanwhile, became cheerful in his silence and looked forward to ditching him at lunch.

Freedom came at last with the distinctive smell of overcooked chicken and tater tots.

Ah, life was good.

I found Zandra, Kim, and some other friends sitting at our usual table in the crowded lunchroom. I made a beeline towards them, seeing that Peter was held up behind me as he attempted to haggle with the lunch lady. He didn't appear to be all that successful.

"I didn't know Peter went here," said Kim as I sat down, trying to hide myself behind stacked up napkin dispensers.

"He does now apparently," I said with a scowl. As I tried to look inconspicuous, I caught the eye of the dreaded Goliath. Thinking my glance served as an invitation, the large, muscled abomination lumbered towards me and asked me if the spot next to me was taken.

"Yes, actually, it is," a voice declared sharply before I had the chance to open my mouth.

Peter and Goliath began sizing each other up, puffing out their chests and attempting to look manly. I buried my face in my hands with embarrassment as the two boys proceeded to insult each other. Peter was just beginning to make fun of Goliath's eyebrows before I stood up and told them both to stop. I told Peter to sit down and shut up and I told Goliath I would talk to him later on the bus.

"It's a date!" Goliath squeaked with delight.

_"What did you say?"_ Peter roared, looking menacing. "I ought to pound you-"

I held up a hand to silence him and to allow Goliath to lumber back from whence he came. I stuck a finger in Peter's face and said, "You have no right to follow me everywhere and cause trouble at my school. Seriously, back off." At this point, I caught sight of Peter's food tray. "She gave you extra tater tots?" I inquired with surprise.

"What can I say?" he sighed softly. "I'm quite the sweet-talker. All I had to do was make a comment about lunch lady Dolores's cute lil button nose, and presto!" After noticing that I was staring at his food, Peter added, "Why Wendy, do_ you _want some?"

I responded by snatching five off his plate and stuffing them in my mouth.

--

If I had thought talking to Peter was going to solve all of my problems, I was wrong. As we were making our way to math class, Goliath "accidentally" bumped into Peter in the hallway. Chaos ensued. I was knocked into the wall as students rushed to gather around the fight.

Between cheering students I could see that Goliath had a bloody nose and Peter was dancing around him, dodging swings and punches. "Stop!" I tried to shout as someone stomped on my foot. "Excuse me, I can't see! Let me through please! _MOVE OUT OF MY WAY!" _I shoved the shrimpy-looking kid that had stepped on my toes and he fell into the fighting rink. Peter took this as an act of hostility and yanked the shrimpy kid up by the scruff of his neck and started poking him in the eye.

"Peter!" I cried. "Stop! Peter, you're going to get into trouble!"

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?" a deep voice bellowed. Mr. Kragel came running up, his eyes crazed behind his lab goggles. He was still wearing latex gloves.

I grabbed Peter's hand and pulled him into the crowd. "Do you want to get suspended?" I hissed at him.

"Hold on," said Peter, trying to worm his way out of my grasp. "There's one more thing I need to do." He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "Hey mammoth! Look at us!"

Goliath spun around to face us as the crowd parted so there was nothing but empty space between the giant and ourselves. Peter turned back to me and said, "Okay, first prize coming up." Before I could stop him, he dramatically locked his fingers behind my skull and pulled me into a kiss.

--

**A/N: I can tell Goliath and Wendy aren't going to be too happy about this. Thanks to my reviewers! Your words are helpful and most of them make me smile. Keep on reviewing! **


	14. The Horrors of Math Class

"What's your _problem_?"

Things had definitely gotten awkward. At first, when Peter was keeping me in a lip-lock so powerful it was impossible to squirm out of, onlookers took the scene as something out of a romance novel and they all started clapping like they do in the movies whenever anyone kisses.

They stopped clapping when I slapped Peter and called him a jackass.

I guess hostility takes the romance out of everything. Even the chemistry teacher had backed off, not wanting to get in the way of what appeared to be a dangerous love triangle.

"What's my problem?" Peter questioned, looking at me like I was crazy. "What happened to Saturday night? Remember you said you would stay true to the bargain and whatnot?"

"Yeah, in _private. _You can't just make me kiss you in front of everyone!" I hissed at him, noting that there were still a dozen pairs of eyes trained on us.

"There were no such rules made," Peter protested with a scoff. "Besides, I needed to set that gorilla straight."

"He is _not _a gorilla," I snapped. "He has a name."

"Then what is it?" Peter asked, crossing his arms. "I'll look him up in the phone book and find out where he lives."

"His name is…" I trailed off. I had almost said "Goliath", but that was even worse than "gorilla". Deciding I needed to put an end to this confusion once and for all, I turned to Goliath and asked him for his name.

He looked positively pleased that I was talking to him. "Fred Starkey."

Fred? Really? He didn't look like a Fred. More like a Dwayne Johnson. With big eyebrows. But that wasn't the point. The point was that I finally knew Goliath's name.

I decided to hit Peter below the belt (but not literally) by saying, "Why couldn't you be more like Fred?"

Peter gaped at me, clearly shocked. He probably would have been less shocked if I had chosen someone looking like Pierce Brosnan over him, but seeing as Peter had been replaced by a gorilla, the surprise was certainly understandable.

"Why do you have to be so immature?" I went on, trying my best to glare at Peter. "You can definitely be charming at times, I'll give you that, but your childish games are just ruining it for me. You can call me when you decide to grow up." I turned on my heel, planning to make a dramatic exit out onto the courtyard, but Peter's words stopped me.

"But Wendy, you lost your cell phone when The Mermaid Lagoon blew up."

I closed my eyes. Must he ruin everything? "It's a figure of speech, Peter," I snapped. "An adult would have known that." Ooh, I had him pinned there.

So I left Peter standing in the now-empty hallway as I walked out on the courtyard, deciding to take the scenic route to math class (which meant using a side door that cut through the main office).

Even though Peter had my exact schedule, I avoided him by taking a seat as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, the only open seat was next to Goliath-er…I mean Fred-and I had to withstand "subtle" muscle flexes from my new admirer. What on _earth_ had I gotten myself into?

"Wendy," Fred whispered, distracting me from drawing a picture of a shark on my graphing calculator. (What was it with me and sharks recently? I guess I had Peter on the brain). Continuing, Fred's urgent mutterings caused me to mess up the snout on my shark.

"Good job Fred," I hissed in annoyance. "You made my shark look like a crocodile."

"Did I now?" Fred asked in what he must have thought was a sexy voice. The Incredible Hulk waggled his eyebrows at me.

Oh God…what did he think I was talking about?

"You wanna describe that shark for me?" he squeaked, reaching out and stroking my hand. I shrank back from his touch, horrified.

"I'm about to turn your circle into an equilateral quadrilateral," Fred added softly.

I jumped out of my seat. My teacher, Mr. Flagston, raised his eyebrows at me expectantly. "Water," I gasped. "I need water. Like now."

"Go ahead and step outside," replied Flagston, gesturing towards the door. "Don't waste time though. I'm trying to teach everyone how to graph circles on their calculators."

I needed to get out of there. Fast.

"Peter!" I added. "I need Peter. To help me get some water. Yeah."

Peter was already out of his seat and striding towards me. "She has a condition," he explained to the teacher. "She gets dehydrated easily. I am to watch her when she drinks because dehydration can cause her to over-quench herself and hence lead her brain to swell like a sponge. Don't worry, I'm a professional. But if you don't let me go with her, you'll be the one scraping her sticky cerebral plasma from the ceiling."

The teacher wasn't brave enough to argue with this information as Peter dragged me out into the hallway. "I have no idea what the hell I just said," Peter added to me in undertone.

"Well, whatever it was, it worked," I muttered back as we went to the water fountain. I took a long drink as Peter looked on with bemusement.

"You actually wanted water? I thought you brought me out here to talk about something." Peter looked disappointed.

"It's Fred," I explained, wiping my mouth of stray water droplets. "He keeps hitting on me in Klingon. I need someone to translate to him the words 'get the hell away from me'."

"And you think I can do that?" Peter asked, clearly amused. "You're looking at the King of Cool, sister. What you're asking for is something that's way below my standards."

"Oh," I replied mockingly, "excuse me Mr. King, sir. I only thought you could do everything. I guess I was wrong. Perhaps I'll find someone else to do the job."

Peter took the bait. "What did he say to you?"

So I told him.

"That bastard," Peter hissed. "I'm going to pound that incredibly muscled nerd so hard he won't know the difference between the quadratic formula and the Fibonacci sequence."

Wait…_what?_

I gave him an odd look.

"I know my math," Peter told me with a sniff, clearly insulted.

I'm pretty sure he didn't but I wasn't in a position to argue. Instead Peter told me the exact words to say to Fred for when we returned to the room. I took a deep breath as I made my way back to my seat.

"Wendy!" cried Fred in greeting. "Your brain didn't swell, did it?"

Hmm…_that's_ not something I hear everyday. "It's fine, Fred. Actually, the reason I needed water wasn't because I was dehydrated…It was because you overclocked my processor." Peter said that using these words would trigger immediate revulsion because it was an insult used in the nerd universe. Peter had backed this up by saying he read it somewhere online.

Unfortunately, these words didn't have much of a negative effect on Fred. Instead, Fred attempted to grab my shoulders and land a smooch on my mouth. Luckily, I came prepared and I thwacked him on the head with my graphing calculator.

"I've been struck by cupid's arrow," Fred claimed as he fell backwards out of his chair.

"No, you've been struck by Texas Instruments' TI-84," I told him, reading the cover of my calculator. I then took the time to look over at Peter, who was sitting smugly at the back of the classroom.

"You wanted Fred over me? You got it babe," said Peter with crossed arms.

I was really starting to hate pre-calculus.

--

**A/N: Okay, I had fun writing this chapter. As I side note, I did not invent the overclocked processor thing. That was supposedly a "nerdy" pick-up line someone told me as a joke. And I'm sure I've seen it online somewhere. Regardless, leave a review and tell me what you think. **


	15. NyQuil and Cyanide

By the end of that particular school day, I was far from being Peter's friend. And I don't mean in the romantic sense. More in the _he-almost-succeeded-in-getting-a-gorilla-to-kiss-me-so-I-hate-his-guts_ kind of sense.

To say I was mad was a bit of an understatement.

As Peter attempted to talk to me from the other side of the bus (as I unfortunately proceeded to hide-no, cower-behind Fred's muscular bulk), I pretended to be much more interested in the dirt beneath my fingernails. Now that I thought about it, I wondered what Peter had done with my pointy nail filer.

"C'mon, Wendy," Peter pleaded. "It was just a joke. I won't do it again."

I chose to ignore him. I kind of felt bad for the whole ordeal, especially on Fred's part. I was pretty sure that he was fading in and out of a coma due to the smashing of a calculator into his apparently not-so-thick skull. Ah, and once again I was on a bus with the very annoying Peter trying to talk to me when it was quite clear that I wasn't in the mood for conversing. I sighed and chose to look out the window.

"Hey, Fred," said Peter, crawling out into the aisle. "Can I sit there?"

Fred responded by drooling.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Peter as he pulled the previous Goliath out of the bus seat and onto the floor. Peter tapped on my shoulder until I turned to face him. "I'm sorry okay? I don't want you to be mad at me because I-" His words were cut off by an enormous sneeze that sprayed a dangerous combination of mucus and saliva into my face. Anymore of that glop and I would have been done for.

"PETER!" I exploded in complete disgust.

"That was a good one," he said jokingly as he wiped his face. I, myself, wiped my own face on the shoulder of Peter's uniform. This was when Peter sneezed once more, firing into the back of the seat in front of us.

"Are you allergic to something?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

"I'm not allergic to anything," he replied with a frown. He sneezed once more. "That's not good," he added, looking horrified.

"I guess you're coming down with a cold," I told him with a shrug. "That's karma coming back to bite you in the bum."

"Your sensitivity is overwhelming," Peter said flatly. "Besides, I _don't _get sick."

"Everyone gets sick," I protested.

"Not me," he denied. There was a look on his face that wasn't familiar. That's when I realized he was worried.

"Oh, c'mon! It's just a cold. Suck it up."

"You don't understand…I don't _get _colds. Don't you find it unnerving that there is no real cure for the common cold? If this is the first time I've ever been sick, then that means my immune system may not be ready for it. I could _die._"

"Don't spew that crap at me," I snapped at him. "You don't even know what the hell you're talking about."

"You just_ want_ me to die," said Peter accusingly. "I bet you wouldn't even come to my funeral."

"Oh sure I would," I cooed sympathetically. "I might stomp on your grave a few times, but I'd still come." The bus shuddered to a stop and Peter stood up.

"Fine, you're not invited," he said, looking truly annoyed. "Excuse me while I go home and die all alone."

"Enjoy yourself," I told him cheerfully as he angrily turned away and stomped to the front of the bus. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and watched as Peter shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped out onto the sidewalk. High above him in the sky, the clouds opened up and it began to rain.

--

Peter didn't come to school the next day.

Nor did he come for the rest of the week.

In belief that I had finally bested the arrogant Peter Pan, I was very much in a good mood when I returned home Friday afternoon with my brothers. Unfortunately, my good mood was spoiled when I found a troop of unexpected visitors in my living room. My mother wasn't even home from work yet so I had no idea how they had gotten in the apartment. Now that I thought about it, I probably didn't want to know.

"You have to come quickly, Wendy," said Slightly pleadingly.

"What's wrong? Why are you here?" I demanded as Michael and John looked on curiously.

"It's Peter," replied Slightly desperately. "He's dying."

I started laughing. "Is this his little ploy to make me feel sorry for what I said to him? Well it's not going to work. Give him some cough syrup and he'll be fine."

"It's no human cold," Slightly insisted. "He doesn't get those."

I found it kind of strange that Slightly referred to normal colds as being "human". "Oh," I said sarcastically, "has he been to Pluto recently? That boy is always getting into trouble."

Slightly shook his head. "This isn't something to joke about. I don't understand how he got sick. We were supposed to be safe here!"

"You mean in New York City?" I laughed once more. "If you wanted to protect yourself from getting sick, this is the last place you should have come."

"You don't get it, Wendy," Slightly told me in frustration.

"No," I told him seriously, "I don't. Unless you can explain it better to me, I'm going to ask you to leave. You don't just barge into people's homes and tell them nonsense stories. Even if Peter _was _dying, what could I do about it?"

"He_ requested_ you," said Slightly. The other boys nodded in agreement. "He thought you'd be able to help him."

"Didn't any of you stay home sick when you were little? Didn't your mothers play doctor while you watched cartoons?" I looked at them all impatiently.

Every single one of them shook their heads. "We didn't grow up like you did, Wendy," said Slightly. "In fact, we didn't grow up at all."

I rolled my eyes. "Duly noted. You all are just a bunch of babies. Alright, I'm coming. Michael and John, you're going with me." Not bothering to change out of my uniform, I turned towards the door and led my brothers and the lost boys out into the hallway. "This had better be good," I muttered.

--

Peter was _not _dying. I could tell the moment I came into his bedroom, followed by his concerned friends. He was propped up in bed watching television. He even laughed when Spongebob said, "Squidward, I used your clarinet to unclog my toilet." Upon noticing me, Peter's previous laughing quickly morphed into severe coughing. I rolled my eyes.

"Thank goodness you're here," Peter rasped weakly. "There's not much time left…"

"Funny," I said with narrowed eyes. "You claim to be dying and yet you spend your last few moments watching Spongebob Squarepants."

"You got a better idea?" Peter demanded.

I sat at the edge of his bed and waved everyone else out of the room. "You know, to tell the truth I've missed having you around to annoy me."

Peter pathetically sneezed into his bedcovers before looking up at me with watery eyes. "Really?" he asked, his voice sounding scratchy.

"No," I told him dully. "But I'm going to request that you quit pretending you're dying and take some NyQuil to help you sleep."

"What if I become dependent on the drowsy effects of the medicine and I proceed to use it for weeks and weeks? NyQuil contains acetaminophen and excessive amounts of this chemical can cause damage to an important organ in my body; my liver could shut down and I could die." He crossed his arms and glared at me menacingly. "I'd much sooner take cyanide."

I blinked. "I don't think cyanide will help with the runny nose though," I told him jokingly. "Anyways, how do you know so much about NyQuil?"

"I am an enthusiastic member of an online medical forum. My username is NyQuilSux07."

I stared at him. _Someone_ needed a hobby…Or maybe the problem was that the "someone" had already found one.

"Okay then…," I said slowly, eager to change the subject. "So maybe I won't give you NyQuil. But there are other cough syrups out there."

"Many cough syrups are used to make meth," Peter stated. "That's why pharmacists are thinking about selling those kind of medicines behind the counter. I don't know about you but I don't want to get addicted to meth either."

"If you use the medicine like you're supposed to then I doubt you'll get addicted to anything. Besides, I don't see any meth labs around here." I gave him a dirty look.

"You clearly don't know my neighbors," said Peter quietly, before promptly coughing into his pajama sleeve.

I sighed. "You're so pathetic Peter. You sit around looking like crap and moan about how you're dying but you won't take someone's advice at helping you feel better."

"I've looked up old-fashioned remedies," said Peter quickly. "You could always make me chicken noodle soup."

"Or you could always take Tylenol," I snapped.

"It worries me how you can name so many drugs," said Peter seriously. "I hope you're not like one of those teenagers who feel the need to get high off of Vicks' VapoRub. If that's the case, I am dating the wrong girl."

I laughed. "I could have told you that you were dating the wrong girl a long time ago. Now, do you want me to help you or not?"

"Please," he begged. "I'll do anything."

I thought about it. "Anything?" I inquired, raising my eyebrows.

"Anything."

"Alright, how about this? You aren't allowed to annoy me for an entire week. I get to call the shots and if I decide that you're irritating me, then I'll abandon you to the cold that seems to be ravaging your body. If you're a good boy, then I'll continue to mother you until you feel better." I crossed my arms.

Peter looked absolutely outraged. "That's entirely unfair!" he protested. "You can't tell me to go against my very nature!"

"Oh yes I can," I told him in contradiction. "It's very simple; be good and live to tell the tale, or annoy me and die."

"I guess I don't have much of a choice," he said gloomily. "But me being sick can't count as an annoyance to you. So you're going to have to wait on me hand and foot…Or something like that."

"So it's a deal then," I said cheerfully. "Excellent. I'm going to go to the drug store down the street and I'm going to come back with NyQuil and you're going to like it."

"Yes, Mom," said Peter dully as I stood up and started for the door.

--

It was raining when I went outside to go to the street corner drug store. I left Michael and John in the care of the lost boys while I searched for a remedy to Peter's illness.

Unfortunately, Peter wasn't the only one with a cold.

As I browsed through the various cough syrups and medicinal tablets, I caught the eye of someone familiar from across the store. It was Fred Starkey and he had friends.

Pirate friends.

"Holy guacamole," I hissed as I crouched down behind a sales rack. An elderly woman who passed me gave me an odd look and that's when I realized I was hiding next to the self-lubrication section. "It's not what it looks like," I insisted. The woman shook her wrinkled head and walked away looking disgusted.

I sighed and crept along to where bandages were kept. Crouching there would look a lot less shady. While I mulled over original vs. sweat-proof athletic band-aids, I forced myself to listen to the conversation on the other side of the store.

"Starkey," a familiar dark voice snapped, "are you my first mate or are you my first mate? Hurry up and buy my damn cough drops."

It was Captain Hook.

"While you're at it, we're out of bandages. Smee always manages to get himself caught on fishing hooks, that poor bastard," the pirate went on.

"Yes, sir," replied Fred. I could hear his heavy footsteps as he made his way towards my aisle.

Well, crap.

--

**A/N: My apologies for not updating as quickly as usual. Not only have I just started a summer job working with kids at a museum, but those very kids gave me a cold and got me sick. Which leads to Peter Pan. SO please review : ( **


	16. Worth Fighting For

_I'm not here. I'm not here. I'm not-_

"Wendy?"

Damn it.

"What are you doing here?" Fred asked, his voice slow and annoying.

I swept some cough syrup off the shelf. "Yep, I got what I needed. Nice seeing you. Bye." I quickly started for the counter to pay for the medicine. Fred grabbed the back of my shirt and spun me around.

"Good gravy, what is _she_ doing here?" another voice inquired roughly. "Why, it's Peter's little girlfriend!"

I lifted my chin to look into the mischievously twinkling blue eyes of Captain Hook. "My. Name. Is. Wendy."

The pirate laughed and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I wrinkled my nose in distaste and tried to step away from him only to find that I had been boxed in by other members of his crew. A man behind me roughly grabbed my shoulders.

"Tell your man to unhand me!" I hissed, my blood boiling.

"No, I think my newest recruit is satisfied with what he's doing right about now," replied Hook greasily. "Though, I've heard you and Starkey have already met."

"I heard chicks dig pirates," Fred whispered in my ear.

I shuddered.

"Where's Pan?" Hook demanded.

"None of your business," I snapped.

Hook lowered his eyes to the cough syrup in my hand. A smile tugged at his mouth as he looked up at me again. "Your dear Peter is sick, is he? I guess he's not as immortal as he likes to think."

I scowled at the pirate. It was one thing for me to insult Peter for his arrogance, but it was another thing entirely for a dumb pirate captain to do so. Hook continued to smile at me as he gestured for Fred to bring me closer.

"I suppose if you're not going to tell us where he is, we'll just have to bring him to us." He took me tightly in his arms and turned to speak to his men. "Gents, I'm taking little Wendy to the warehouse. Stay here and wait for Pan." Hook proceeded to drag me out through the door and onto the street.

"HELP!" I bellowed, struggling in the pirate's grip. "HELP!"

A few passerby gave me odd looks but did not stop. What the hell? What part of 'help' didn't they get?

"Let me go!" I snarled at Hook, attempting to kick his shin. He picked me up quite easily with his good arm, slinging me over his shoulder, and gently placing the tip of his hook against my back. I froze immediately.

"Good girl," said Hook with a small smile. "Now I see why Peter likes you so much. I bet he can make you do whatever he wants."

Okay, now that just pissed me off. _No one _talks to me like that. Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could do about it considering I had a very sharp object being poked into my back.

"I hope Peter really kills you this time," I told him furiously. I'm terrible at comebacks, I know, but I didn't have much of a choice. Knowing this, Captain Hook let out a bark of laughter. "Don't laugh at me!" I snapped. "You ugly cripple!" Yeah…I'll admit that was a hit below the belt, but he totally deserved it, being that he was kidnapping me and all.

Hook didn't seem to like this so he grabbed my hair and pulled me off his shoulder only to backhand me in the face. Hard. "You talk too much," he declared as I fell back into his chest and dissolved into darkness.

--

The instant I woke up I tried swinging my arms, desperate to smack someone in the face. That's when I realized I was duct taped to a chair in a large room with lots of crates and boxes stacked up into towers. The smell of fish was strong on the air and the lighting was so dim I had to squint to see what was going on.

To my horror, I found that each and every one of the lost boys were slumped together on the floor, imprisoned by ropes. Michael and John were there as well and they looked like they were out cold. Only Slightly looked as if he were conscious. He blinked slowly at me.

"Hello, Wendy," said Slightly, attempting to flip blond hair from his eyes. "Did you get Peter's medicine?" I think he meant this as a joke but seeing that he spoke slowly, I couldn't be sure.

"What happened?" I demanded. "How did all of you get here? Where the hell is Peter?"

Slightly grimaced. "Well…after you didn't come back, Peter sent half of us to go after you and I suppose when _we _didn't come back, Peter sent the rest to come after _us_."

"So, basically, Peter's probably still in bed watching SpongeBob?" I asked, wincing.

"Basically," Slightly admitted.

"So what should we do?" I asked. "Where are the pirates?"

"I don't know," said Slightly. "Most of them are probably still at the drug store, waiting to ambush Peter in his sickly state. Hook is probably here somewhere though…"

I tried to twist my wrists, but they were bound too tightly with duct tape to the arms of the chair. I sighed. "Do you think Peter will come to rescue us?"

"Not if Nickelodeon is having a marathon," said Slightly miserably.

"There must be something we can do," I said, glancing around. I tried to lean my chair over so I could see pass a stack of boxes. The chair toppled and I landed on the ground sideways.

"Effective," said Slightly with a smile curving at his mouth.

"Oh, be quiet you," I snapped. "At least I'm trying."

"And clearly failing," Slightly added.

I was very uncomfortable lying on my side like that. I attempted to scoot along the floor, using the one knee that was touching it, but I didn't get very far.

"There…has…to…be…something," I panted, attempting to wipe my sweaty face with my shoulder. "You don't happen to have a knife on you, do you?"

Slightly's face smoothed over and looked serious. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"No! If I did, I would have already used it!" He threw me an aggravated look. "Now I see why Peter has so much trouble with you. You must think you're smarter than everyone around you."

"I do not," I denied, offended. "I'm obviously stupid enough to get kidnapped." After a moment's pause I added, "Did Peter actually say that I was trouble?"

"He won't shut up about it," Slightly said with annoyance. "It's always 'Wendy's mean' this or 'Wendy's mean' that. I, personally, think the fact that Tink doesn't like you is a sign from God. Most of the boys are trying to convince Peter that he's wasting his time."

I frowned. Peter probably _was_ wasting his time, but it didn't make me feel any better to hear it from one of his friends. "Oh" was all I replied.

Slightly glanced at me before saying, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

I shrugged. "I'm not offended." That was a lie; I was.

"Though, honestly, I hope he likes you enough that he'll somehow manage to come and save us," said Slightly with a sigh.

"That's a little selfish," I accused. I was starting to like Slightly less and less. He seemed a bit conceited. Kind of like Peter.

"Well, everyone's thinking it," said Slightly. I highly doubted that considering "everyone" was pretty much in a coma. But what he said got me thinking. Surely we had been locked up long enough for Peter to come looking for us, right? He wasn't so sick that he couldn't get out of bed and…he did like me, didn't he? Maybe something went horribly wrong. Maybe he _did _come after us but the pirates ambushed him. What if Peter was lying dead on the sidewalk somewhere? What if no one was coming for us? What if…?

I closed my eyes. I needed to stop thinking so negatively. But I also couldn't just wait to be rescued. I started gnawing at the tape around my left wrist, which was the wrist closest to the floor.

"Just what do you think _you _are doing?" a quiet voice asked. I froze. That voice sounded remarkably like Captain Hook's. However, the body that crept out to meet us was not that of the pirate's. Peter gave me a lopsided grin.

"You sounded just like Hook," I gasped.

"Yeah…he's good at that," said Slightly dully.

Peter gave a tremendous sneeze before nearing me.

"How did you get here?" I asked in curiosity.

"I make it my business to know where Hook does his dealings," said Peter with a thin smile.

"I thought you would never come," I told him. "I was so worried."

"About me, or yourself?" Peter questioned, his eyes twinkling slightly. The skin around his eyes were dark and bruised and he looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks.

I ignored his question. "You look terrible. I was so close to getting you cough syrup too. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Peter croaked, giving me an odd look. "It's not like you _planned_ to get kidnapped."

"Maybe I did," I said carelessly. "Maybe I wanted to see how much you loved me. To see if you would drag yourself out of bed to come rescue me even with the flu."

Peter smiled weakly at me. "Too bad I didn't come to rescue you."

I nearly choked on my own saliva. _"What?"_

He kissed my forehead.

I opened my mouth and protested loudly at this clear act of hostility. "You'd better get me out of this right now!"

Peter turned my chair so that I was lying on my back. My hair was fanned out like a halo and I had to twist my head to see him properly. He bent over me and started playing with my hair. "I should have thought of this sooner," he whispered, giving me an irritating smile.

"Peter!" I bellowed. "Stop this nonsense and release me!"

Peter pressed a finger to my lips. "Shhh," he whispered. "You don't want to attract any pirates now."

This was entirely unfair. Peter needed to stop using cheap shots on me. I tried to express this to him but it was getting increasingly hard to concentrate the closer and closer he got. Soon he was leaning over me, his lips just inches from mine. I saw him smile as he brought his face even closer. I closed my eyes, expecting the kiss to come.

It didn't come.

I heard his laughter and my eyes sprang open in bewilderment. He was pointing at me as he said, "Well look at you! Your lips are all scrunched up. What, did you think I was gonna kiss you?"

I burned in fury and I tried to look anywhere but at his face. Peter caught my chin in his fingers. "I wouldn't want to get you sick, now would I?" He ran a finger down my cheek gently. I scowled at him and he laughed once more. "You're so fun to mess with," he declared.

"Get me out of this, Peter. Now." I gave him a steely look.

He gave me a melting smile. "Wish I could, princess, but I can't."

"Can't or won't?" I demanded.

"I won't because I can't," he insisted. "Now, you're going to stay right there and I'm going to hide."

"What good will that do us?" called Slightly with curiosity.

"You'll see," said Peter cheerfully. "Now, if Hook comes on the prowl…I wasn't here, okay?" There were footsteps coming from somewhere in the warehouse. Peter immediately dove behind a crate.

Hook came walking up from behind me and he stopped, his feet inches from the top of my head. He glanced down at me, an amused look on his face. "How did you get down there like that?" he questioned.

"Peter did it," I said quickly, ignoring the hiss coming from a box nearby.

"Pan?" Hook demanded, looking around with wide eyes. "He was here?"

"Yeah, he's behind that crate over there." I flicked my eyes in the opposite direction of where Peter was really hiding.

"Wendy!" Slightly moaned, playing along. "Why would you do that?"

Hook went off in the completely wrong direction, leaving Peter to easily sneak up behind him. Just as the pirate captain was poking through a stack of newspapers, as if the classifieds could possibly be hiding his arch nemesis, Peter tackled him from behind. They both fell on the ground and started struggling. The pirate had much more of an advantage considering the steel hook on his arm, but Peter was very quick and was able to dodge any blows being aimed at his skull.

"Get him, Peter!" Slightly bellowed. Slightly's shouting caused the rest of our companions to stir from their stupor. They were all attempting to sit up right to see the match between Peter and the pirate.

"Get him, Peter!" they all began shouting. I was very put out because the fighters had moved out of my range of sight so I could only imagine what they were doing. I heard a _thwapp_ing sound and judging by the lost boys' laughter, Peter was smacking Hook on the butt with a rolled up newspaper.

It didn't sound like Hook liked this, because there was a loud _thwump _and something landed on the floor with a sickening thud. The lost boys groaned. I pictured Peter's head rolling along the floor towards me. I sighed. I guess this meant I would have to break up with him.

"Get up," Michael pleaded, looking teary-eyed. "You can do it Peter."

I heard a muffled groan and the sounds of someone struggling to his feet. There was another thud. Hook had hit Peter again in the face with his hook. I twisted my head at an impossible angle to see that Peter was on the floor about a meter from me. He was breathing short, pained gasps and his green eyes were rolling in their sockets. His gaze landed on me and I could almost see the hint of a smile on his lips.

Peter's arms shook as he tried to hoist himself up off of the dirty cement floor. A line of crimson dribbled from his cracked lips as he let out a wet cough, raising his eyes to look at Hook.

"Still trying?" Hook questioned, looking positively delighted. "Stuff like that will get you killed."

"To die would be an awfully big adventure," Peter countered weakly, his throat heavy with phlegm. I winced; that wasn't the wisest thing for him to say to someone who was about to kill him.

In amazement, I saw Peter rise to his feet. Hook backhanded-or, rather, backhooked-Peter once more in the face. Peter stumbled back, knocking over a stack of crates. That's when it hit me. Peter was about to _die. _He was going to die right before my eyes and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Stop," I begged to the captain, raising my voice over the choking sobs coming from Michael. "Please, stop."

Hook released a great, throaty laugh. _"'Stop!'" _he mimicked in a high, girlish voice. The captain stomped away from Peter and towards me. He yanked a fistful of my hair and pulled until I was sitting upright in my chair. He spun the chair so that I was directly facing Peter's fallen form.

"No," I whispered, gritting my teeth to hold back the stinging tears in my eyes. I would not cry; there was no way I would give Hook that satisfaction. I struggled with myself, focusing on reducing the pressure that built up behind my eyes. A tear escaped and cut a thin trail down my cheek. Hook smiled at me, revealing his crooked teeth, before turning back to Peter.

Peter's face was bloody and torn; half of it was unrecognizable. I swallowed a sob as another tear fell. And then another.

Peter smiled weakly, showing me his bloodied teeth. "Don't cry, Wendy. I'm alright."

"No sense in lying to her, Pan," said Hook with a smile. The pirate turned to face the lost boys. "How about I propose a deal? I'll spare Pan's life if you all work for me. However, Pan will be my prisoner. I'll start with you, Miss Wendy."

"No!" Peter barked, spraying blood in my direction. He used the boxes to help himself to his feet, but his leg crumbled beneath him and he landed on his back once more. He struggled to lift his head. "No," he repeated. This time he was looking at me. As if he were reading my mind, Peter whispered, "Don't you do it, Wendy. Don't you dare."

I closed my eyes, blocking out the bloody scene.

"She has to, Peter!" Slightly cried, clearly outraged. "We're not letting you die."

"I will _not _be taken prisoner," Peter spat. "And I refuse to let any of you work for that scum."

"Peter, if you die, we die," I cried, forcing back a sob. "Stop being so damn stubborn." I'm not sure if I meant what I said literally or figuratively.

"What will it be, sweetheart?" Hook asked me unkindly.

"I…," I started uncertainly.

"No, Wendy," said Peter sternly. He started coughing and he had to set his head back down on the pavement for a moment. "No."

I gave up on stopping the uncontrollable weeping. "Hook," I finally said, my voice riddled with tears, "I will _never_ join you."

A roar of protest came up from the lost boys behind me.

"I won't alter the decisions of the others," I went on, "but if you take Peter, you take me."

"Stupid girl," Hook snapped. He slapped me in the face.

"Wendy!" Peter cried, trying to stand. "Don't you touch her! She's not the one you want!"

"But she sure means a lot to you," whispered Hook with a crazed grin. The captain raised his maimed arm to my face, tracing the sharp steel of his hook along my cheek. My skin burned and I couldn't tell whether it was blood or tears that ran down my face.

"_NO!" _Peter roared. He was suddenly up on his feet and stealing across the floor. He drew back a bloodied fist before smashing it into the side of Hook's face. The pirate captain stumbled in surprise. I quickly leaned sideways in my chair so that I toppled over, leading Hook to trip over me. He fell on me before rolling off and landing on the floor. Peter took the opportunity to dive down on top of Hook and sock the pirate in the face once more.

"Damn," the lost boys chorused.

Damn indeed. It looked like Hook's nose had broken and blood was blossoming everywhere. Peter clunked Hook in the head with his foot and the pirate went limp. I let out a long sigh I hadn't know I had been holding.

Peter quickly looked away from Hook to peer into my face. "Are you alright?" he demanded. "Did he hurt you?"

My eyes boggled in bewilderment. "Hook nearly beat your face to a pulp and you're asking me if _I'm _alright."

As if he just remembered how hurt he was, Peter slumped down to sit on the floor for a few moments. There were deep gashes on one side of his face, all of which were bleeding freely. He wiped some of the blood away with one of his sleeves. That's when I realized he had been fighting in his pajamas; the soft fabric was covered in airplane prints and crimson stains. I forced a smile.

"God, I hate violence. Do you think you were worth this?" Peter shot at me with a wide grin.

"No," I admitted. "No one's ever risked their life for me before you."

"I guess that makes me special, huh?" Peter asked coyly. He dug into the pocket of his pajama bottoms and he withdrew my shiny silver nail filer. He held it up for me to see before he crawled over to me and began hacking at the duct tape with it. He got one of my wrists out and proceeded to work on the other. After that, he turned to both of my ankles. When I was out, he pocketed my nail filer and twisted his head to look at the ropes binding the lost boys and my brothers together.

"That's going to take some work," Peter was saying as I straightened up and stood next to him. "Do you mind helping me untie the knots?" I stared at him.

When I didn't answer, he turned to look over his shoulder at me. "Wendy?" he prompted, his eyebrows aloft. As if connected to strings, some invisible force propelled me forward towards him. I locked my fingers behind his head and pulled him close to me, crushing my lips against his. _"Wendy?" _he repeated incredulously, his mouth muffled by my own.

"Shut the hell up and kiss me," I growled.

He shrugged and did just that.

--

**A/N: Heh sorry for not writing in forever. I just got back in vacation. I'm going to try writing more frequently now though so let's not be impatient. REVIEWWWWWWWWWW. **


	17. Stitches and Bitches

"I must have hit my head harder than I thought," said Peter as he stumbled back from me, massaging his skull with his knuckles. "Either that or it's my fever talking."

I kneeled down and began untying the lost boys, ignoring Peter's useless babble. Slightly was making a face at me because I was being too rough with the rope and it was burning his skin.

"Does this mean you like me?" Peter questioned, even though I was only half-listening. "Or was that just some spur of the moment thing? Did you just want to get that last kiss out of the way? Was it just a congratulations for defeating Hook?" He paused for a moment. "Will I get another one?"

"Will _you _stop talking for _one second? _I'm trying to concentrate!" I was fumbling over the tight knots binding John and Michael together and Peter was distracting me with his stupid questions.

Peter frowned and sat down in a pout. Either that or he sat down because he was close to _falling_ down, seeing as he was covered with blood. He watched me stonily, not bothering to help me.

"Alright, c'mon everyone. Hook could wake up any moment," I told the boys. I turned to Peter and grabbed his hand, pulling him up to his feet. "I need to get you to a hospital. You'll probably need stitches."

"I don't need no stinkin' stitches!" Peter protested in outrage. He attempted to hide behind Tootles to protect himself from me.

"While we're at it, we can check out that cold of yours and make sure you don't have the flu," I added. I touched my face and I could feel the cut that stretched across my left cheek. It stung horribly. I cringed at the thought of how Peter must feel.

"No, really, I'm fine," Peter insisted. "I don't need to go to the doctor. All I need is just a pinch of pixie dust." What a dork.

"Don't argue with me," I snapped, trying to mop the blood off his face with my sleeve.

"Touch me one more time woman!" Peter dared, putting up his fists. "I'm not afraid to hit a girl."

"You _won't _hit me," I said, giving him a challenging glare. "Now you're going to come with me to the hospital and you're not going to give me any trouble about it."

Peter stuck his tongue out at me childishly and crossed his arms. "I don't want to have to explain anything to any stupid doctors."

"Like what? How you got hurt?" I asked, thinking. "Why don't we just tell them the truth? We could always drag Hook out into the street and get him arrested."

"Absolutely not," he scoffed. "I'm not going to let my old friend get arrested."

"Why the hell not?" I asked, mystified. "He just tried to kill you!"

"That just means he cares," said Peter, sighing dreamily.

"You're a freak, you know that?" I snapped. "You're the worst boyfriend ever! Hook has ruined the only 'dates' we've ever been on and suddenly you're too soft to turn him in."

"But what would the world be like without Captain Hook?" Peter asked tragically. "My life would be so boring."

"But you'd still be alive," I pointed out. When this didn't get any sort of reaction out of Peter, I sighed and gave up. "I need to date other people," I muttered, mostly to myself, though I'm sure he heard me. "Alright, we'll leave Hook here. But we're still going to the hospital." I turned to address the lost boys. "Could you guys walk Michael and John back to my apartment?"

They nodded in agreement and led my brothers towards the exit. I turned back to Peter when we were alone. "I'm sorry," I said honestly.

"For what?" he asked, looking slightly amused.

"For kissing you."

--

Twilight had fallen and the rain had softened to a light drizzle. Water diluted the blood on Peter's face and splashes of pink fell on the sidewalk as we walked in silence. We were right next to the water and we could hear the waves crashing against the dirty docks. I kept my eyes focused on the gum peppering the sidewalk with dark blotches, and refused to think about the boy in step beside me. He was angry with me for what I said but I was too tired to apologize.

I hailed a lonely cab weaving through the light traffic on this desolate side of the city. I asked the driver to take us to the nearest hospital. He looked curiously at us over his shoulder but said nothing. I dug in my pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. My mother had given it to me that morning to put in my lunch account for next week, but I had forgotten to do so. I used it to pay the cab fare when the car stopped outside Bellevue Hospital. I helped Peter get out because he was wincing and holding his ribs; he must have hurt them from falling so many times.

His cuts were still oozing and the collar of his pajamas was getting nastier and nastier. "This really isn't necessary," Peter claimed crossly as I made him sit down on a chair in the waiting room of the emergency section of the hospital. I went up to the front desk and talked to the lady there.

"My friend Peter and I got into a little biking accident," I explained. "I'm mostly okay, but I'm worried about my friend."

"Sure thing," said the lady. She handed me a clipboard with forms to fill out. "Give this back to me and we'll get you in as soon as possible." I snatched up a pen from the counter and thanked her as I headed back to Peter.

"Okay," I said, frowning at the complicated-looking papers. I wrote the date: Friday, April 18, 2008. I wrote my name in the blank that said, "Completed by", and went on to "Relationship to Individual." I laughed at this and said to Peter, "This could take all day."

Peter didn't get what was so funny so he continued to browse though a late issue of People Magazine. I rolled my eyes and wrote his first and last name. "Do you have a middle name?" I questioned.

"No," he said, without looking up.

"Do you have a nickname you'd like to be called by?" I added.

"No," he replied, in the same dull tone as before.

I decided to write down "Snuggle Muffin" in that space because Peter wasn't acting very cooperative with me. I wrote down his address and phone number after double-checking it with him first. "Alright, what's your birth date? And your social security number?"

Peter seemed to think this was extremely funny. "That's a good one," he laughed. When he still didn't answer my questions, I asked him again. Peter sighed and took the clipboard from me. He made a few marks before handing it back.

I squinted to read his chicken scratch and sighed. "Peter, the number seven is not acceptable for a social security number. And I don't think they'll go for 'unknown' as a birth date. C'mon, when were you born?"

"I don't know these people!" said Peter in a hushed voice. "What if they try to steal my identity?"

"You're paranoid. Okay, we'll come back to those. What type of health insurance do you have?" I asked with a slight scowl.

He grinned at me apologetically. "I don't have health insurance."

"You…what?"

"Next question."

"Um…If you don't have any insurance then…I don't know how we're going to pay for this visit. Okay, I think I'm going to fudge things a bit. You're now going to be my step brother staying in a hotel nearby." I crossed things out and wrote complete BS. I made up a birthday and social security number and I wrote down which health insurance covered my family rather than his.

"That's identity fraud you know," Peter accused.

"That's okay," I said. "It's under your name." I ignored his incredulous gape and I asked him for emergency contacts.

"Put down myself," said Peter.

"You're going to have people call _you _in case you have an emergency?" I demanded.

"That'd sure throw a wrench in things," he replied cheerfully.

"You're impossible." I proceeded to make up all the phone numbers so that the doctors wouldn't come running after us with scalpels. "Any allergies?"

"Tinkerbell sometimes makes me sneeze," he admitted. "Ooh, you should put 'Wendy' down. She makes me have nausea."

"You're so immature," I snapped at him.

"Oh, and say that I have a bunch of STDs or something. The doctor's going to freak when he has to sew up my face."

It alarmed me how cheerful Peter was at this but I did as he said. There was a section for special needs. I checked the box under "Toileting Ability" that said "Needs Assistance" and a box that said "Fed Through a Tube" under "Dining/Eating".

"You're a jerk, you know that?" said Peter as he read over my shoulder.

"Hmm," I said, tapping my chin with a pen. "Are you currently pregnant? What age did menstruation start? Oh, and what was the date of your last mammogram?"

"I…," he started. He paused, as if he had just realized what I had said. "Wait what? Give me that!" he snapped as he snatched the clipboard from my hands. "That's under WOMEN'S health!"

I took the clipboard back. "Oops, my mistake," I said innocently. I looked under medical and psychiatric illnesses. "This could be fun," I said, mostly to myself as I wrote down "delusions of grandeur" and "self-injurious behavior" for the psychiatric part.

"Are you done with that, ma'am?" the lady at the desk called. Apparently, I was taking a long time and she was impatient.

"Almost!" I called sweetly. I went to the section about all the shots he had been given and I put that the only one he still needed was for rabies. I also made a note that he might need a PAP smear upon his next visit after writing down the reason for our attendance.

I smiled at Peter before handing the clipboard to Ms. Impatient at the front desk. I held my breath as the woman looked it over briefly before nodding and handing it off to a nurse.

"Everything seems in order," said the woman. "Take a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly."

"Bwahaha," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" she questioned with curious eyes.

I faked a cough. "Sorry, something was in my throat." I held in a laugh as I returned to Peter. His nose was buried deep into tabloids. "So," I said nonchalantly, "what news of Brad Pitt?"

"Oh be quiet," Peter snapped. "Stop making fun of me."

"I'm not!" I exclaimed quite seriously. "I really want to know."

The door burst open and two guys rushed in with an unconscious man on a gurney. A nurse immediately admitted them into the hospital without having the man fill out any forms.

"That's entirely unfair!" Peter shouted, pointing his finger threateningly after the gurney. "We were here first!"

"That guy probably has a broken neck!" I told him in exasperation. "Sit down and shut up."

"People need to learn to wait their turn," Peter grumbled.

"Mr. Pan?" a voice called. An intern doctor was looking around the waiting room expectantly.

"See?" Peter added. "It's not that hard." We stood up and walked towards the doctor with a nametag that said, "Dr. Shara Resik". She was probably in her late twenties, with blondish hair tied up in a ponytail. I didn't like how she smiled at Peter. Bitch.

"Well good evening Mr. Pan. I see you've had a little accident." She was looking at the chart I had filled out previously. "You and your step-sister were riding a bike. You let her ride on the handlebars and you lost control and hit a pole. You fell off and smashed your face on the curb. Is that right?"

"Yes ma'am," said Peter with a wide grin. "My sister's so fat she blocked out my line of sight."

I felt like smacking him in the face with the clipboard.

"I guess we'll have to give you stitches, uh, Snuggle Muffin," said Dr. Resik with a slight frown.

"Excuse me?" Peter asked, raising his eyebrows. "Are you flirting with me? I should sue you for malpractice."

"Uh…no. It says here that your nickname is Snuggle Muffin," said the doctor. She showed Peter the form as proof.

"Oh!" I said loudly, interrupting them. "Sorry. That's what I like calling him in private."

"You like calling your step-brother Snuggle Muffin?" Dr. Resik asked with incredulity.

"We're close," I explained.

"Practically incestuous," Peter added. This received an odd look from Dr. Resik but she didn't say anything. She led us to a small white room that was similar to a regular doctor's office. Peter sat on the bed and the doctor bent over him to examine his wounds.

"Strange," she said. "It looks like you got cut my something sharp rather than an impact wound." She washed her hands in the sink before putting on white gloves. She took some gauze and began attacking his face with it.

"Ow," Peter complained. "Ow, ow! Stop that, you're taking off my skin!" As if he were defending himself, Peter sneezed in the doctor's face. "Sorry," he added. "I'm sick too."

Dr. Resik wiped her face with her sleeve to remove mucus. She then took a syringe with clear stuff in it and she squirted it into Peter's wounds.

"Hey! That hurt! What was that?" Peter demanded. "She's trying to kill me, Wendy."

"Stop giving her such a hard time," I snapped at Peter after the doctor explained to him that she had just numbed his pain.

I could tell that Dr. Resik was losing her patience as she started sewing up Peter's wounds when he broke out in the chorus of "Dancing Queen." He wasn't all that bad of a singer either. _"'You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life!'" _When Dr. Resik had finished, Peter hopped down did a credible moonwalk.

"Hold up, Snuggle Muffin," I snapped at him. I pulled up his shirt to show the doctor his ugly bruises. "Do you think he broke something?"

Dr. Resik traced her fingers along his skin gently. Peter was overcome with laughter. "Stop! That tickles!" He started batting her hand away.

"Hold still," Dr. Resik said through her gritted teeth as she tried to steady him. "I don't feel anything. He might have just bruised them. He'll be alright…if he doesn't dance too much." Unfortunately that was exactly what he was doing. He kept squirming and spinning away from her hands.

"What about my face?" I asked her.

Dr. Resik frowned at the cut across my cheek. "You don't need stitches. Maybe just a butterfly bandage." She took out a funny looking band-aid and she stuck it onto my face. "There you go. Snuggle Muffin should come back in about ten days to have his stitches taken out."

"Will you be here that day to take them out?" I asked hopefully.

"No," the doctor said too quickly to be truthful. I blinked but said nothing at this.

"And about his cold…Do you have anything to suggest?"

"Give him NyQuil," said Dr. Resik flatly. "Now get out. I have more patients to see." I could tell that she had gotten fed up at Peter's dancing. "Now I see why he needs assistance to use the bathroom," the doctor said under her breath.

Unfortunately, Peter had heard this. "MALPRACTICE!" he bellowed at the doctor as I dragged him out of the room. "Improper professional treatment of a patient! Ethical misconduct! I'm going to sue the lollipops out of _your ass_!"

"Peter!" I gasped. I had a death grip on his hand as we raced out of the hospital.

I couldn't take that boy anywhere.

**--**

**A/N: Okay…as for the date this supposedly takes place…I can't remember if I set a time of the year earlier in the story so if I did…my bad. I wanted to have this take place relatively towards the end of the school year. Anywho…REVIEW! **


	18. Saying Goodbye

"Well, that was fun," said Peter cheerfully as he attempted to drape his arm across my shoulder. I knocked his hand off, of course, just as we stopped at the door to my apartment.

"What is this?" I asked him, touching the doorknob lightly in hesitation of whether I should go in or not.

"It's a noun, commonly referred to as a 'doorknob'. It is a handle on a door that is turned to release the latching mechanism which in turn is used to keep the door closed," replied Peter as he curled his fingers into circles around his eyes to make it look as if he were wearing very thick glasses.

"Ha. Ha. Ha," I laughed humorlessly. "What I meant was…Why are you still here? You're just some guy I met on the bus...What's making you stay?"

"Well," said Peter offhandedly, examining his fingernails, "I suppose what's making me stay is the fact that you find me devilishly attractive."

I sighed. "Peter, you have a bunch of stitches in your face. Only the Corpse Bride would find that attractive. And frankly, I was looking for a serious answer."

Peter nudged my shoe with his bare foot. "Aw, c'mon Wendy. Loosen up. I'm not as bad as you'd like to think. Admit it, sometimes I'm an okay guy." He sneezed at this point and attempted to wipe some snot off his hand by swiping his fingers on my shirt. I stared blankly at him. "Well, that wasn't a good example," Peter agreed, "but I know you have one somewhere in that pretty little head of yours."

I shrugged. "When you go all heroic on me, I sometimes don't think you're half-bad. And when you're dancing, you make it hard not to smile."

Peter looked quite pleased at this.

"But you're obnoxious and many times I think you're more childish than my brother Michael. You can be honorable at times but don't you think it would do you good to grow up a bit?" I didn't say this harshly, exactly, but I couldn't help but notice the smile slip from Peter's face.

"What's with people your age and the popular desire of growing up so quickly? I don't see what's so great about getting old and having to work harder or pay bills or tie yourself to a family…Where's the fun in that?" Peter crossed his arms and watched me. A challenge.

"I'm not saying that you should act _old_…I'm saying you should act your age." I stared at him pointedly.

"And by age you mean how many years I've been alive, right?" Peter questioned with a small frown. There was something unrecognizable in his wide green eyes.

I blinked. "What other kind of age is there?"

Peter hesitated. "Forget it."

We stood there, staring at each other. I sighed. "There's a point I've been trying to make with this conversation."

"Oh?" he asked, faintly amused.

"I don't think this is working. Everywhere I go with you I end up getting in trouble. I've been fortunate enough to escape with my life each time but…in the future I might not be so lucky." For some reason I felt terrible for this and I felt stabbing pains to my chest as these words tumbled from my mouth.

"What are you saying?" Peter asked. All smiles were gone now and the hallway had fallen in eerie silence.

"I was kidnapped from a drugstore because a pirate wanted to use me to get to you. Do you see my cheek? I got this because of you. I don't want to do this anymore." I knew I wouldn't cry but part of me wanted to. I stared at my feet instead of at Peter as I said, "I want you to stay away from me, Peter."

"Ah," he said softly, in complete understanding.

"I'm…," I started, hesitating. I wanted to say I was sorry but I couldn't. It would have been a lie.

"Yeah, alright. I get it." Peter's voice was suddenly flat and angry. His eyes were smoldering as he snapped, "Though I'm a little confused as to why you'd kiss me and then suddenly break it off."

"Why do you think I apologized for that back in the warehouse?" I countered, my voice rising.

"You can't just _do _that, Wendy," Peter shouted. "You can't just yank me around and expect me to be okay with it! You call me a child, yet you play more games than I do. But you know what? Whatever. I guess I deserved this. You didn't want to talk to me on the bus so why should you want to talk to me now?"

He had no reason to be mad at me. I should be mad at him! He'd put my life in danger several times over and his childish antics had a habit of driving me insane. He had no right to talk to me like that. And I told him so.

Peter held up his hands to silence me. "Goodbye, Wendy." He gave me a brief, faltering smile before turning away.

"Peter?" I called.

He paused, listening.

"Thank you for saving my life."

--

I walked wearily to my room and sat down on my bed. Michael was already asleep but John was still awake. He crawled off of his bed and came over to sit next to me.

"What's wrong?" John asked, leaning his head on my shoulder. His dark hair spilled into his face and glasses reflected back the shine of moonlight pouring in through the window.

"Besides everything?" I questioned with a weak smile.

John didn't return the smile. "Is it about what happened today?" he asked. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep. I keep thinking about what that man with the hook did to Peter."

"I won't be able to sleep either," I agreed, though for a completely different reason. I put my arm around John and closed my eyes.

"Worrying about Peter?" John whispered.

"Yes."

--

It didn't feel like a Saturday.

The moment I opened my eyes, I wished I hadn't. I didn't even remember falling asleep; I was surprised that I had gotten any sleep at all. Swinging my feet out of bed, I rubbed my eyes groggily and took note of the dirty clothes from yesterday that I had worn to bed.

I looked to the window hopefully, as if there would be another note taped to a glass. There was nothing.

I fumbled for the new cell phone my mother had gotten for me, and speed-dialed Zandra's number. I knew Kim would still be fast asleep at this time but Zandra woke up at the crack of dawn. Her father was a military man.

"Morning, Darling," Zandra said in greeting. "What news from Kent?"

I ignored her British-oriented question and said, "Are you free today?"

"I'll have to ask the drill sergeant," replied Zandra dully, "but I might be able to sneak out. What's up?"

"Nothing really," I said indifferently. "I finally got rid of my annoying admirer." My insides twisted in guilt.

"Fred or Peter?" she asked. It sounded as if she were eating an apple.

"Both, actually," I admitted. "You know that guy with the hook that Peter bowled against last weekend?"

"How could I forget?" asked Zandra with an airy laugh.

"Well, Fred's his first mate. I doubt Hook would want Fred _fraternizing_ with me anymore." I pretended to sound cheerful.

"And what of Peter?" she asked.

I hesitated. "It didn't work out. I kind of told him to get lost."

"I see," said Zandra. There was a silence on her end of the phone line.

"Yeah so…You want to do something?" I tried to keep my nonchalance but I could feel it quivering.

"For some reason I have the feeling you're more upset than you're letting on," said Zandra softly.

I didn't answer to this.

"Alright," she sighed. "I'll meet you in half an hour."

--

"You know what you need? You need a rebound," said Zandra from across the table as I stabbed my pancake with resentment. We were eating at a Denny's for breakfast as her treat.

I laughed harshly. "A rebound for what? I don't think Peter and I technically went out."

"Hmm," Zandra mused. "Good point."

"And I'm not sad," I told her honestly. "I've known him for…what? A week? I just feel guilty. 'Cause even though Peter was the one who got me into those messes, he was also the one to get me out of them. It just seems like a bad way to repay him."

"C'mon," said Zandra, rolling her eyes. "If you wanted to get gutted every time you went out with someone, you would have dated a shark. I'm sure Peter understands. As…cute as he is-," I gave her a sharp look before she continued, "-you deserve better."

I snorted at this. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I just want-" Zandra didn't get to hear what I wanted because my phone went off in my pocket. I fished it out and flipped it open. "Yeah?" I questioned.

"Wendy!" my mother exclaimed. "Guess what?"

"What?" I asked, taking the bait.

"You're taking a week off of school!"

This was too good to be true. "What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously.

"No catch," said Mum. "Your father has invited us to visit him for a week. He's gotten a nice new apartment and he wants to share it with us." My mother was still in contact with my father, mostly for the benefit of my brothers and I. "We're going to London!"

I scowled into the phone. This was not my idea of a vacation. It would be a week of getting cooped up in a tiny apartment with my parents bickering to no end. That's how it was last Christmas.

"I don't want to go," I stated plainly.

"But…," said my mother unhappily, "he really wants to see you. It will only be this next week."

"Well, I have a major history project at school that's going on all next week. My grade is dependant on it. You want me to get a scholarship, don't you?" I was such a bitch, preying on my mother's weaknesses with a lie like that.

"But this is the only week he can do it!" said my mother miserably. "He starts a new job afterwards. I really want to visit London. I miss it so much. Also, I already bought the tickets! We're leaving tomorrow!"

"Then I'm sure you'll have fun without me," I said dully.

"I'm disappointed in you, dear," said my mother in exasperation. This was a good sign. It meant that she was giving in.

"I love you too." I listened to her hang up. When she did, I glanced over at Zandra.

"What is it?" my friend asked with a frown. "And what history project were you talking about?"

"My mum and brothers are going to London for a week. The project was an excuse for me not going." I sighed and pocketed my cell phone.

"You know what that means," said Zandra with a wide grin.

"What?"

"Party at your place."

--

**A/N: Yeah I know that nothing especially exciting happened in this chapter, but it was essential as a filler. I'll be updating another chapter shortly! Cheers. **


	19. Through a Stalker's Eyes

**PETER'S POV**

I groaned when something furry sat on my face.

It felt as if I had slept a century.

_"Get off my face, Tinkerbell!" _I bellowed a little too loudly for a Saturday morning. My TV was still on, though muted, and cartoon reruns were playing. I switched it off and squinted at my alarm clock. It was nearly nine o'clock.

I touched my face gingerly, feeling the stitches. I sighed, knowing I'd have to take them out myself. The only reason why I had allowed Wendy to take me to the hospital was because I didn't want to have to explain my reasons behind not needing stitches. That brought me to another thought. Wendy.

Groaning and complaining as loud as humanly possible, I lumbered out to the bathroom with a pair of scissors in my hands. The lost boys who happened to be sleeping on the couches began to stir grumpily.

"Wha are ya whinin' 'bout, Peter?" Slightly asked me groggily as he rolled over on his stomach.

I didn't answer him as I slammed the bathroom door behind me and peered at myself in the mirror. My cuts had all miraculously healed and all that was left was the unnerving black thread. I got as close as I could to the mirror as I began snipping at the stitches. It certainly felt weird to pull string out of my skin.

"There we go," I said to myself when I finished. The traces of last night's wounds were nothing but light pink scars. Those would soon fade as well. Grinning, I winked at my own reflection. "God, I look sexy today." After dancing a bit in front of the bathroom mirror, someone pounded on the bathroom door.

"If you're done making muscles at yourself, I'd like to take a piss," came Slightly's growl through the crack in the door.

I frowned. How had he known that had been what I was doing? Well, I suppose it didn't matter. Any guy who looked as good as I did would have done the same exact thing. Wendy must have been insane to dump me.

Giving myself once last eyebrow waggle, I opened the bathroom door and allowed Slightly to pass. The lost boys out in the living room greeted me with slurred words.

"What are you doing today, Peter?" Tootles asked from the window. He let out a great yawn.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Wendy dumped me last night. I might go jump off a few buildings."

All of the lost boys looked up with raised eyebrows. "She did what?" they all chorused. They then broke out in outbursts of "she's crazy" or "you don't need her, you're gorgeous!" I held up my hands and let their voices die down.

"It is true, I _am _gorgeous," I sighed. "But I guess Wendy just has a thing for ugly people."

"I doubt that's why she broke up with you," said Slightly as he came out of the bathroom. The room fell quiet and all eyes swiveled to Slightly. He was the only lost boy who was arrogant enough to challenge Peter.

"Hey!" cried Curly's slow, deep voice in outrage. "Don't talk to Peter like that."

"Yeah," Nibs agreed, mimicking Curly. "Don't talk to Peter like that."

Slightly ignored them and began to circle Peter. "I bet she told you something along the lines of you putting her in danger too much."

"I think her exact words were, 'You're too badass for me.'" I pretended to be smug about this. "But it's all good. It was fun for a while, but frankly it got old."

"It got old after a week?" Slightly questioned, eyebrows raised. "That's pretty cold, even for a guy who chopped off his old friend's hand."

"For the last time, the maiming of James Hook was an _accident_," I said, irritated.

"Regardless," said Slightly with a shrug. "I know you. You're my best friend, Peter."

I pretended to swoon at this touching moment.

Slightly ignored this and went on, "I know when you're upset. You know what you need? You need a rebound."

I faked a laugh. "I don't need someone to get over Wendy. She's _so _last week."

"Don't do that," said Slightly seriously. "It makes you sound gay. How are you gonna pick up any chicks if they think you're gay?"

"I don't need any chicks!" I snapped. "What I need is…" I trailed off, thoughtful. I looked at the rest of the lost boys suspiciously; they had been hanging on my every word. "I need to get outside for some fresh air," I said with a pointed smile. These were code words for "I'm going to go stalk Wendy!"

Slightly narrowed his eyes at me as I retreated to my bedroom to get dressed in jeans, a green t-shirt, and my usual black leather jacket. I looked in the mirror, trying to fix my hair just right. Sighing, I gave up and just ruffled it up in all directions. "Perfect," I said as I stomped out into the living room, scaring Tinkerbell with my loud footsteps. I started towards the door.

"Try not to give Wendy a hard time," Slightly called after me.

--

I crouched on the roof of a low building.

I had waited nearly twenty minutes for Wendy to emerge from her apartment building to meet her friend Zandra out on the curb. I had followed them soundlessly to a Denny's breakfast place and was quite content when they had taken a table next to the window. It allowed me to watch them from my stakeout position on the building across the alley from theirs.

I squinted at them, trying to read their lips. "Blah, blah, blah," Wendy mouthed. "Blah? Blah…Blah-blah," Zandra replied. I squinted harder. I could have sworn I saw Wendy mouth my name. Suddenly, Wendy picked up her cell phone. I frowned at this; she never told me she had gotten a new phone. Why hadn't she given me her new number? Or perhaps it was the same number. Some phone companies did that now. Perhaps I should test that theory out.

Something new was happening. I blinked.

Wendy and Zandra were standing up. Zandra put a dollar down on the table and the two of them disappeared further into the restaurant. I cursed myself for having lost them and I quickly made my way to the edge of the building that faced a dark alley. I didn't want any one to see what I was about to do.

Enjoying the resistance the wind made against me, I jumped from the roof. I landed easily and softly, as if it had been nothing. I then crept down the alley to peak around the corner. Zandra and Wendy were emerging from the Denny's. However, they didn't head in the direction of Wendy's home.

"Where are you going?" I muttered, frowning after them.

I followed the two of them like a ghost, careful to keep a few people between us to hide me from view. They were going into a small food market jutting out on a corner. I dodged through the door behind them and practically dove behind a magazine rack.

"This is stupid," Wendy was saying crossly as I eased up along an aisle adjacent to theirs.

"It's not stupid," Zandra snapped. "C'mon, when was the last time you've thrown a party? Or been to one for that matter?"

Party? They were throwing a party? Without me?

I shrunk back, hurt.

"That's not the point. I'm not in the mood for throwing a party," said Wendy glumly.

Score! She must have been really hung up about me. I smirked to myself, though it seemed quite ridiculous for me to do so considering I was crouching next to the female sanitary products. I made a face at one of the packages ("With Wings!") just as Zandra said, "Think about it, Wendy. You might meet someone there you like."

_What? _There was no way Wendy could find a replacement for me. I was irreplaceable! Priceless! Unique! One-of-a-kind! I was _Peter Pan. _

"That's true," Wendy agreed. Suddenly the gloominess was gone. They started exchanging party ideas.

"My neighbor could be your DJ," Zandra was saying. "He's real good at it."

"Who's your neighbor?" Wendy asked.

"His name's Ryan. He knows a few people that go to our school so I could always tell him to bring some friends. This is going to be fun! Trust me."

I heard a crinkling sound and I knew Zandra had just picked up a bag of chips. So that's what they were doing in the food market. They were shopping for party snacks.

"Alright," Wendy agreed. "Let's do it. Tomorrow evening. Maybe around eight o'clock or so. Just…don't invite _too _many people, alright?"

I blinked rapidly, trying to get a grip on the situation. It was obvious that Wendy was much too wrapped up in party plans to remember I existed. She must not have cared about abandoning me at all. I took a deep breath, knowing I had failed. The only reason why I had spent my morning stalking Wendy was because I had hoped there was a shred of evidence that not all hope was lost…That some part of Wendy liked me.

I stood up and trudged to the glass doors, my heart growing heavier and heavier with each step. I left behind the two girls' enthusiastic chatter about their upcoming party and stepped out onto the sidewalk, knowing that it was too late.

--

**A/N: Dude this story is 104 pages long on Microsoft word! Awesomeness :3 anyways, I'm debating about doing another Peter POV chapter later on so tell me what you think. Puh-lease review!**


	20. Boogie Booze

**WENDY'S POV**

I looked up and frowned. "Did that look like Peter to you?"

Zandra glanced at me with a knowing look. "Look, I know you miss him, but if you want to get over this…you need to stop taking hallucinogens."

"I don't _miss _him. I swear, I just saw him walk out of the store!" I pointed towards the exit where I was sure I saw the back of Peter's head disappear from. "I think he's following me."

"You're paranoid," Zandra snapped. "Now c'mon, let's pay for all of this junk." I continued to watch out through the window for any sight of Peter as Zandra laid down some bills on the front counter.

"Maybe we can ask to see the footage from the security cameras," I muttered, mostly to myself as I squinted around the store.

"You're crazy," said Zandra. "God, if you liked him so much then why the hell did you dump him?"

"I didn't _dump _him. We weren't even going out, technically. He's just…_too childish. _It's so annoying! He's reckless…and I really don't know much about him except he likes grilled cheese sandwiches and he lives with a bunch of friends. I don't know where he came from or why he doesn't go to school…He even refused to tell me his birthday!" We were exiting the store and I was kicking absently at the sidewalk.

"Ooh, maybe he's an assassin," said Zandra, suddenly interested. "Maybe he _was _following you. Maybe you're on his hit list and he's watching you right now with a scope aimed at you." She said this in a spooky voice, wiggling her fingers for emphasis.

"Well I think there was something he wasn't telling me. There's something about him…I don't know…I just don't trust him. Like how he got into my apartment one night to leave me a note…and how he always arrives ahead of me anywhere we go when I _know_ that I was the person to leave first and…It just doesn't make any sense. He's good at almost _everything. _He dances, he runs real fast…he can jump like someone from the Olympics…" Just talking about it was making me frustrated. What was Peter hiding?

"I find it suspicious about his relationship with that Hook guy," said Zandra, swinging her grocery bags back and forth. "They hate each other's guts and yet…I don't know."

I touched the scratch on my cheek. "Hook did this to me," I told her. I decided not to go into the entire story because I didn't want to freak her out, so I remained vague. "Next time it could have been my throat and it would have been Peter's fault. I did this for the best. I'm sure Peter's real pissed at me…considering I kissed him and then dumped him like an hour or so later…"

"You did _what?_" Zandra asked, aghast.

I shrugged helplessly. "I'm sure God's going to zap me with lightning."

"Why would you do something like that?"

"I don't know!" I exclaimed. "I'm stupid. I feel guilty enough without you nagging on me."

"You could always apologize to him," she suggested.

I scoffed at this idea. "But that would mean he won! I'm not going to beg him to forgive me because I don't _want_ him back." I pushed these thoughts in the back of my mind. "C'mon, we have a party to set up. My family is leaving tomorrow so we'll have to keep it under wraps until they get lost."

--

My mother pulled me into an uncomfortable hug. She kissed my cheek and told me she would miss me. Michael was tugging on my shirt, begging me to come with them.

"C'mon," my youngest brother pleaded, "John is bad at telling stories. He always talks about stuff I don't get."

John adjusted his glasses indignantly at this accusation. "There's nothing wrong with learning the history of your country. Sometimes I doubt Michael and I are related."

I hugged John tightly and patted Michael on the head. "Call me when you all get there, alright?"

"Keep the door locked," my mother reminded me. "No drinking, no smoking, no boys in the house-unless it's Peter of course-and _no _parties. Make sure you get an 'A' on that project now." My mother smiled at me before dragging her suitcase out into the hallway. "Bye dear!" Michael and John followed her gloomily, giving me one last look before the door slammed, leaving me in utter silence.

I smiled secretly to myself. Phone in hand, I quickly called Zandra. When I heard her answer, I announced, "The chicken's flown the coop."

--

Kim, Zandra, and I sat rigidly on the couch in my living room. I could hear the grandfather clock ticking noisily in the silence and I kept twisting the hem of my skirt in my fingers.

"When's that Ryan kid going to get here?" I asked suddenly to break the silence. "We can't have people arrive without any music!"

"Chill _out_," said Kim, looking me up and down. "I'm sure he'll be here in-"

There was a loud buzzing sound and we all jumped. I nearly tripped running towards the door. I squinted my eye to look through the peephole. It looked as if whoever was standing outside was smashing his nose against the door so I couldn't see who it was.

I turned the doorknob to admit guest number one inside. A very tanned hand stuck out and shook mine hurriedly. "Hi," said a cheery voice, "you must be Wendy. I'm Ryan." As Ryan walked in holding a large speaker under his arm, I realized there was someone standing behind him laden with more audio equipment.

"Hello," I said as they both passed me. "Who's your friend?"

"He's not my friend," called Ryan over his shoulder as he set one of the speakers down on the kitchen counter that divided the kitchen and the living room. "That's my cousin Rufio. I would have thought you knew him."

I frowned at Rufio. He was as tan as Ryan was, looking distinctly Asian, with mussed black hair streaked with splashes of red. He did not smile at me; he merely stared back with an unwelcoming surliness.

"I think I would have remembered him," I said, though I don't think Ryan caught the insult. Rufio, however, narrowed his eyes at me and remained silent.

"Well, he goes to your school. I believe he fights on the boxing team for the mighty Trees, isn't that right Rufio?" Ryan smirked at his cousin.

"Shuddup," Rufio snarled.

What a nice guy.

I cleared my throat loudly, glancing at Zandra and Kim imploringly. "So, uh, how about that music?"

"Oh yeah," said Ryan from behind the couch where he was using a surge protector to plug in all of his equipment. "I brought along a bunch of clubby dance music as well as some normal stuff. Zandra wasn't exactly clear on what I should bring."

I smiled and turned to Rufio. "Did you help him pick out the music?"

"No," he replied flatly.

Kim coughed into her sleeve and gave me the 'dead' signal. I took the hint and excused myself to the kitchen and asked the girls to help me bring out the food.

"What's Rufio's problem?" Zandra asked us in a hushed voice, rolling her eyes. "I can't believe Ryan would bring him along."

I raised my eyebrows. "Do you know him?"

"I know _of _him," Zandra corrected. "He's a senior of course and he ison the boxing team."

"What else do you know about him?" I asked, curious.

"He's a total jerk. What else do you gotta know?" Zandra sighed.

"I heard when his last girlfriend broke up with him, he hit her with his car," Kim piped up.

"I heard it was a truck," said Zandra.

_"Ohh," _I said knowingly. "He's _that _guy." I'd heard about him, I just had forgotten his name. "So _why _did we invite him into my house?"

Kim ignored my question. "Didn't he also set the gym coach on fire?" she prompted, a little too loudly.

It was as if a darkness had settled over the kitchen as a low voice drawled, "It was the mascot."

The three of us spun around to face Rufio. He surveyed us with narrowed eyes, circling us like a vulture. "How long have you been standing there?" I demanded, outraged that he had been eavesdropping.

"Long enough," Rufio growled. He paused, flicking his eyes to rest on mine. His narrowed orbs were much too dark to be normal and they were framed by even darker lashes. "And it had been an accident when I hit Cynthia Harlan with the Chevy." He grinned, revealing startlingly white teeth. "Or, at least, that's what I tell everyone."

Kim and Zandra exchanged alarmed looks, but I wasn't fooled. "You think you're real tough, don't you?" I asked, jutting out my chin with resentment.

Rufio raised his eyebrows. He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the blasting of _Dancing Queen _out through the speakers. I yelped in surprise, trying to ignore the fact that the song strongly reminded me of Peter as Rufio roared, _"TURN THAT SHIT OFF!" _

Ryan snapped off the music and looked up at us with an apologetic smile. "Oops, wrong CD."

"This is going to be a disaster," I mumbled, burying my face in my hands.

"It'll get better when some buddies of mine arrive with the beer," said Rufio in a tone that could almost be taken as cheerful. Almost.

I spluttered in disbelief. _"What?" _I hissed at him. "You can't bring alcohol in here! My mum'll kill me!"

An almost-smile tugged at Rufio's mouth. "Not my problem."

I looked to Zandra for assistance.

"Don't look at me," said Zandra with a shrug, opening one of my kitchen cabinets to reveal my mother's stash of booze for special occasions.

I gaped at her. "No," I said, "nuhnonono. You shut that door right now. My mum is going to _notice _if anyone drinks that."

The loud buzzing of the doorbell sounded and we all hastened to take action. Kim dimmed the lights, Ryan started the music, Zandra poised herself over the snack bar, and Rufio glowered in a dark corner as I went to open the door. A troupe of ten people, none of which I had ever met before, marched in with six-packs on their shoulders and cigarettes hanging from their mouths. They all looked like a bunch of grungy punks and Rufio greeted them with a stiff chin-jerk.

One of the party punks immediately went to Ryan's DJ station and fiddled with the CDs. Loud screamo music began erupting from the speakers and my friends and I ducked for cover, shielding our ears and whimpering at the cruelty.

The door opened once more, without anyone bothering to ring the doorbell, and more people I've never met came inside. Soon, my apartment was packed. I only actually recognized about six or seven people from school, and most of them were from different cliques so they were all fighting over the control of the stereo.

"I'm scared," I told Zandra, trying to hide behind her in the kitchen.

"I know, Wendy," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know this many people would come."

Before I could reply, Zandra was swept up in the crowd heading towards the living room to dance. I went to the sink and ran my hands under the tap, using the cupped water to wash my face.

"Having fun?" a voice drawled in my ear.

I turned to look at Rufio. "No," I said. "Are you?"

"The music's decent enough, I suppose," he agreed, cocking his head to listen to the disturbing rock music.

"What's the name of the band?" I questioned.

"Scary Kids Scaring Kids," Rufio replied darkly, nodding along with the music.

"Lovely," I said, trying not to laugh.

He must have seen the smile on my face. "What?" Rufio demanded harshly. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I said, trying to keep my face straight.

"What, you don't like my music?" Rufio asked hotly. He looked seriously close to punching me in the face.

"Uh…," I said slowly, looking for a way out. "I have to go do something…over there." I made my escape through the crowd as Rufio attempted to shout at me to come back, though his words were drowned out by the music.

Kim was dancing with some random guy who was smoking. I went up to the young man and removed the cigarette from his mouth. "You're going to get cancer and die," I told the guy loudly. The guy gave me a dirty look and danced his way towards the beer.

"Hey!" Kim exclaimed. "He was kind of cute! Stop scaring off the guys!"

"He's giving us second-hand smoke!" I retorted. "I can already feel my lungs shriveling up. When we're all dead, it's not going to matter how cute he was." I started coughing to make my point. That was when I noticed some girl puking in the umbrella stand. "HEY!" I cried, running towards the girl. "Don't do that! Go to the bathroom or something!" The girl puked on the floor instead. I sighed. "Thanks for trying at least."

Some dancers bumped into me and I stumbled, slipping on the girl's vomit. Strong arms caught me and helped me to stand upright. I turned to face my rescuer and said, "Thanks…" I gasped when I realized it was Rufio. He was laughing at me.

"That was disgusting," he said, an unkind smile still on his face.

"This was exactly why I didn't want any alcohol here!" I exclaimed angrily as a wild dancer elbowed me in the gut. I doubled over with an _oof _and Rufio caught my arm again to keep me from falling. "I don't know how much more I can stand this. I think I'm going to lock myself in my mother's room and watch television."

"I think some people are going to beat you to it," said Rufio, pointing down the hall where a couple was sneaking off.

I groaned and started after them. Rufio followed me, obviously amused. I wrenched open my mother's door to find about four couples making out all over the room.

"This is the place to be," Rufio growled, watching a particular couple with interest. Some guy was pushing a girl up against the wall and was kissing her passionately.

Surprisingly enough, there were some people who _weren't _joining in on all the snogging. A dorky-looking boy had his eyes glued to the TV; it looked like he was watching a Star Trek rerun. There were also some giggling girls spraying each other with my mother's perfume. I chased them out of the room with a hairbrush and told all the smooching couples to cut it out.

When one couple didn't listen, Rufio grabbed one of the partners by the scruff of his neck and shook him like a dog. "You heard the lady," Rufio growled. "Get out before I knock you out." The guy stumbled away from his girlfriend and scampered out into the hall.

"You didn't need to do that," I told Rufio sternly. "My object in life isn't to scare the crap out of people."

"Mine is," Rufio replied evenly. "Now, excuse me. I'm going to go get wasted." I followed him to the kitchen where I rifled through the fridge to pull out some apple juice. I poured it in a plastic cup and set it down on the counter before turning back to the fridge to look for something chocolaty and delicious. When I returned to my drink, it had moved about a foot. I frowned and picked it up with a shrug, tilting my head back and taking several deep gulps.

The liquid burned my throat. I coughed and stumbled sideways into the counter. That _definitely _was not apple juice. Someone must have taken my drink by accident. Being someone who had never tasted alcohol in their entire life, I immediately felt tipsy. Kim saw me blinking stupidly and immediately began laughing at me like a drunken lunatic. She started towards me, raising her own plastic red cup to my lips, forcing me to take a drink. And another. And another.

Soon we were both dancing like wild Indians out in the living room. People were pointing at us and everyone was laughing. Suddenly I didn't feel so good and I felt myself falling backwards into someone's arms. Whoever it was pushed me back into the dancing rink as my arms began spinning out of control.

--

**PETER'S POV**

Why was I torturing myself like this? Seriously, what good could become of this?

I leaned against the brick building, glancing up at the window high above me. The glass was too thin to keep out the loud music and some guy was pushing a girl up against the windowpane so I couldn't see into Wendy's apartment clearly. I was just debating over whether or not I should I should climb up the wall and force my way in when a junky looking car drove up onto the curb. A guy came out carrying several boxes of pizza and was heading towards the door.

"Whoa, woah, whoa!" I said, holding up my hands to stop him. "How much is all of that?"

"Thirty bucks, why?" the guy asked, frowning.

"I'll double it if you let me deliver that and loan me the hat and the jacket," I said, digging into my pocket to withdraw my wallet. I was, of course, referring to his Pizza Hut uniform…It wasn't like I just wanted to see him strip.

The guy gave me a curious look before accepting. I handed the money over and made my way inside the building with hot pizza balanced in my arms. This was as good a plan as any, and plus I would be able to slip into the party without anyone stopping me.

I knocked on the door lightly. When no one answered, I started pounding on it with my fist. Some guy I had never seen before wrenched the door open. "PIZZA DUDE'S HERE!" he bellowed, causing even more of a ruckus as everyone tried to maul me for some dinner.

"MONEY FIRST!" I roared over the music.

"How much?" one girl hiccupped.

"Uh…," I said slowly. "Sixty bucks." I smiled at the girl innocently. She was too drunk to realize that sixty bucks for three pizzas was insanely unreasonable. People from the party began passing around dollar bills. I came up with seventy bucks in the end. I shrugged and stuffed it into my pocket. No one seemed to notice.

I set the pizza down on the counter and people began pushing each other out of the way to get to it. That's when I started looking for Wendy.

And that's when I realized she was at the center of attention with a crowd circled around her. She was dancing as if she were a cowgirl at a rodeo, pretending to lasso someone with an invisible rope.

I slapped my forehead. "Oh, Wendy," I sighed. I pushed my way through the crowd and out into the large rink they had made. Wendy was laughing, her face red and her eyes running. I tried to get close to her and she nearly hit me in the nose with her windmill arms. "Wendy!" I cried. "Wendy, stop!" I grabbed her arms and tried to still her. Attempting to get away from me, she launched herself forward and tripped over someone's foot. She fell on top of some guy who was lying drowsily on the couch.

"Hey…gerroff," the Asian-looking guy slurred before promptly falling asleep.

I raced over to Wendy, who was snuggling her face into the drunken guy's feet, still laughing like a clown. I turned her over and patted her cheeks lightly to try and sober her up. I could see her blue eyes struggling to focus on my face.

"Pee-_tah_," she mumbled, "I'm sssso guh-lad you could makkkke _it._" She started laughing as if her own words were particularly funny. I shook my head as I pulled the sleeping drunk guy with the red highlights off of the couch and dropped him on the floor.

He woke up, and boy was he angry.

"Wazzah big idea?" the Asian demanded, holding up his fists. He swung out one of his hands, attempting to hit me in the face. I caught his fist in one hand and used my other to punch him in the eye. He fell backwards into the dancers and, getting the wrong idea, the dancers hoisted him up in the air and began handing the unconscious boy off to others on the tips of their fingers.

I turned back to Wendy and helped her stretch out on the couch. "Do you need anything?" I asked her worriedly.

"Howz'bout anuzza round of Buh-dah Light's finessst?" she asked, allowing her head to fall limply against one of the cushions.

I watched her red face angrily. "You're so _stupid_," I snapped at her. "You know how _dangerous _that is? What if someone had taken advantage of you? What then, huh?"

She lifted her head and smiled at me weakly. "S'lucky ya'wuz here to save zah day, zen."

--

**A/N: Wow I never meant for Wendy to get drunk XD but at least we all know it was by accident right? Review!**


	21. Fritos, Cheetos, and Heath Ledger

**WENDY'S POV**

When I awoke, it felt as if someone had repeatedly drilled holes in my skull. I struggled to sit up, trying to figure out where I was and why I felt so terrible. With a start, I realized there were a bunch of bodies lying all over the floor.

_Oh my God, what happened? _I thought frantically, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head. That's when I was overcome with the thunderous sound of unsynchronized snoring. They were _sleeping. _

I allowed my heart rate to slow to normal as I relaxed into the multiple pillows that were propped behind my head on the couch. I closed my eyes and saw flashes of Peter's face, swimming in the lights and the blare of music and the turmoil of confusion. The smell of sweat was thick on my nostrils as I remembered the swaying of hips and the manic laughter escaping from my own mouth.

_"Wendy, you're growing up too fast for me," _Peter had whispered before withdrawing his face from mine, his eyes tight with anger. And that was all I could remember.

I glanced around the living room, in search of Peter. He was nowhere to be seen so I assumed he had gone home. I recognized Rufio instantly, though. He was lying in the corner with his arm curled protectively around a case of canned beer. I could almost see a smile on his face as he slept. This made me scowl.

I forced myself to throw my legs over the edge of the couch. My legs felt like mush as I attempted to navigate through the battlefield to get to the kitchen. The room spun as I doubled over the sink and threw up. I wiped the bitter vomit from my mouth and took several shaky breaths to steady myself.

Wincing, I threw a glance at the telephone. I could see the answering machine blinking insistently to let me know about all of the messages I had missed, most likely from my mother. I stumbled towards it, not wanting to push 'play'.

"Good morning," said a flat voice from the kitchen table.

I sluggishly turned to look over my shoulder at Peter. His eyes were hard and cold and a grim line was stretched across his face. It looked as if someone had carved the expression with a sharp steak knife.

"Peter," I mumbled, feeling ashamed.

"Did you have a fun night?" Peter asked frostily, never blinking.

"It wasn't what you think," I managed to get out.

"It never is," he seethed. He started to advance on me and I was too cowardly to look him in the eye. "Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid you were acting last night?"

"No," I admitted. "I don't remember much. Nothing…nothing happened, did it?" I felt a lump in my throat, afraid of his answer.

"You were lucky I came as quickly as I did," Peter hissed. I had never seen him so angry.

"Look, I might have been acting like a complete retard but you have no right to butt into my business," I snapped at him groggily, though I was relieved nothing had happened.

"A 'thank you' would have sufficed," Peter snarled through his teeth.

"Why are you so mad at _me? _You're the reckless one!" I suddenly realized my fists were clenched and I was hunched as if ready to strike.

"Lower your voice," Peter shot at me. "Besides, it's not my fault if trouble follows me around. It's not like I go looking for it!"

"I want you out of my apartment!" I snapped, my head clearing slightly as I pointed towards the door. "Go!"

Peter's anger evaporated as he watched me calmly. "No," he said.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?" I demanded, shocked. "Leave! Now."

"No," he repeated, as calmly as before. "Sit down." He pointed at the table and waited patiently for me to cross the kitchen. I narrowed my eyes at him as I sat down. "Now, putting all stubbornness aside, I think it's time for you to have the hair from the dog that bit you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Peter frowned at me. "Well, of course, I don't mean that I'm going to serve you more alcohol…I just meant I was going to give you something to clear your head."

When I continued to give him a strange look, Peter cleared his throat and said, "What, you're British…and you still don't know that expression? C'mon that goes back to like…William Shakespeare!"

I groaned and set my head down on the table. "It's too early in the morning for you to be quoting Shakespeare at me."

"Actually…it's nearly ten o'clock," said Peter, glancing at the digital clock on the microwave.

I jumped. "_What? _I have to get to school! Jeez, I forgot. It's a Monday isn't it?"

"Well you're already hours late so you might as well make the best of it. I don't think any of those guys are getting to school either." Peter nodded in the direction of the people passed out all over my living room floor.

"I need to get them out of here," I said miserably.

"Don't worry about it, I have it taken care of. I took the liberty of using your mother's laptop to look up some remedies for hangovers. I then went to the store and bought like a dozen bananas, honey, and ice cream. After poking around your apartment building, I also scraped up several blenders." He pointed to the grinding instruments lined up along the counter, clogging up all the possible outlets in the kitchen.

I frowned. "You realize that everyone in this apartment is going to _kill _you when you start making all of that racket."

Peter gave me an angelic smile before turning to a big tub of vanilla ice cream. "So, according to the Internet, the bananas help calm the stomach and the honey gives back to the reduced blood sugar levels or something. The milk, which I am borrowing from your fridge and which so happens to be in the ice cream, is supposed to soothe and rehydrate your body...Like water right? Now the bananas, they're the real key to this milkshake. They're supposed to be rich of big words like 'electrolytes', 'magnesium', and 'potassium'."

"And what exactly does this mean for me?" I asked, my voice muffled against the table.

"I'm not entirely sure," said Peter, "but it's supposed to help." He turned to plop the ingredients in each of the blenders. Then he started all of them at once.

I groaned and covered my ears. He wrenched my hands away from my face and said, "No! You're going to listen to that terrible sound and you're going to like it. That's what you get for worrying me sick." I might have felt guilty enough to listen to the sound, but the people half-dead in my apartment didn't feel the same way. One-by-one they were all getting to their feet and lumbering towards the kitchen like zombies.

_"What the hell's your problem, you hemorrhoidal suck naval?"_ Rufio spat at Peter.

"Isn't he charming?" I mumbled, wincing at the grating noise.

"Cool your jets and take a seat," Peter said to Rufio, gesturing towards the kitchen table. "I had the pleasure of meeting you last night, though I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

Rufio stared blankly at him, not moving towards the table.

"Perhaps you were too drunk to remember," Peter suggested. "I'm the one that, uh, gave you that lovely mark around your eye."

Rufio traced his finger along his upper cheekbone, wincing. "You punched me?" he demanded.

Peter smiled, turning his back on Rufio to see the progress of the banana milkshakes. "Only after you tried to punch _me_."

Rufio sat down at the table next to me and I could tell he was trying to keep the confused look off of his face. "Who is this guy?" he shot at me, gesturing towards Peter. "And why the hell is he using like fifty blenders? That's a sound that could wake the dead."

"His name's Peter Pan," I explained. "He's making all of us hangover remedies."

"I don't need a hangover remedy," Rufio snarled. "I know how to hold my liquor. Just because _you _can't, Wendy, it doesn't mean the rest of us need to hear your banshee blenders tearing up the place."

"Say that to the girl who puked in my umbrella stand," I snapped at him.

Peter cocked an eyebrow as he turned off all the blenders and turned around to face us. "Looks like I missed a hell of a party last night."

"You didn't see the part where Wendy was dancing like a cowgirl? If I remember anything, I remember _that_," said Rufio, laughing harshly.

"Yeah…I saw that part," mumbled Peter sourly.

"Wait…what?" I asked, my mouth gaping open. "That's a joke right? Rufio, tell me you're joking. Peter?"

When they didn't answer, I let out a low moan and set my head down on the table again. Peter rifled through the cabinets to find two glasses. He poured out two helpings of banana milkshake and took them to the table.

"I told you, I don't need a hangover remedy," Rufio snapped as Peter sat down.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "This was for me." He took a sip of his milkshake before sliding the remaining glass over to me.

I drank half of mine before offering the rest to Rufio. The cold made my head feel loads better. "C'mon," I insisted. "Just drink it. I'm sure you'll be a lot less cranky. If you like it, Peter'll pour you a glass."

"Like hell I will," Peter muttered under his breath, watching Rufio with narrowed eyes.

Rufio gave Peter an unfriendly smile before accepting my offer. Rufio snorted after one sip. "Whoever made this needs some lessons on using the blender. It's too chunky."

"I think there are more bananas in it than ice cream," I added.

Peter scowled at us. "If you don't like it then don't drink it."

I smiled sweetly at Peter. "No need to get bent out of shape about it. Thanks for the breakfast. Now, I'm going to get into my school uniform and chase out whoever's still sleeping."

"You're still planning to go to school?" Rufio asked with gruff surprise.

I nodded as I headed out through the living room, down the hall, and to the right to my bedroom. There were three guys lying on the floor, snoring. Each of them were wearing a pair of John's boxers on their heads. I sighed as I went to my closet and pulled out a fresh uniform. I would have liked to take a shower, but I was sure there would be someone passed out in the bathtub with marker drawings all over her face or something.

I changed my clothes in the closet and started nudging people awake when I was finished. It took me forever to get the guests out of the two bedrooms and even longer to drag Kim from the bathroom. (I had been right about the marker drawings).

After making sure everyone had gotten a decent portion of banana milkshake, we sent them all out the door. Only Kim, Rufio, Peter, and I remained.

"What happened to Zandra?" I asked, glancing around.

"She went home early last night," said Kim, stifling a yawn. "She didn't want her dad to kill her."

"I think Ryan bailed early too," said Rufio, sounding annoyed. "I don't know how he got home 'cause I still have the keys."

"Cool," I said, "then you can drive me to school."

Rufio stared at me. "I'm not going to school!"

"Well you can drop me off on the way home then," I suggested.

"I can take you," Peter offered.

"You don't have a car," I pointed out. "Rufio does. He can take me. Besides, you've done enough and this is my idea of a 'thank you'. You know…for the milkshake and stuff." I hesitated and I could tell he was waiting for me to continue. I sighed and said, "I'm not good at apologies…But I'm sorry. Okay, Peter?" I offered him my hand for him to shake. He didn't touch it. "Friends?" I prompted.

Peter narrowed his eyes at me. "You're a horrible person, you know that?" He mimed ripping out his own heart and stabbing it with a butter knife before finally shaking my hand in agreement.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said. "I know. I should probably be burned alive, but I don't have time for that." I turned to Rufio. "This is where you come in. Take me to school. Please?"

Peter started muttering crossly to himself as he went around the kitchen finishing the half-drunken milkshakes every guest had left. Rufio's dark eyes were fixed on mine as he said, "Twenty bucks and we have a deal."

"Twenty bucks?" I demanded, outraged. "That's more than cab fare!"

"Then maybe you should take a cab," Rufio suggested stonily.

"I'll take you," Peter insisted, pulling me up from my chair by the armpit. "C'mon, you can piggyback me all the way there. Or we can take the bus. I'll pay, alright?"

Rufio didn't like the fact that my favor was leaning towards Peter so Rufio said, "Alright, I'll take her. For free. C'mon Wendy, I haven't got all day."

"Kim, you coming?" I asked my friend as I started after Rufio, his hands laden with what was left of the audio equipment. I made sure I had my key and cell phone in the pocket of my uniform vest.

"Nah," said Kim. "I think I'll take the day off. I'm grounded when I get home anyways."

"Really?" Peter asked Kim. "You want to go do something?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

I raised my eyebrows but decided not to comment. Instead, I said, "Well Rufio and I are off. Just make sure one of you locks the door on the way out, alright?"

Peter and Kim nodded, still sitting at the kitchen table as I closed the door behind me. Rufio and I walked in awkward silence to the elevators; we would have to take a detour to the parking garage. After we left the garage in Rufio's notorious girlfriend-smashing Chevy, I peaked into the rear-view mirror at the apartment building to see Peter and Kim exiting out onto the sidewalk. I could see that they were laughing. Mouth set in a straight line, I focused my eyes dead ahead and said nothing at all.

--

**PETER'S POV**

"You've got a little something on your visage there," I said to Kim, pointing vaguely at her face.

She rubbed at a marker drawing that looked roughly like an eggplant, a frown contorting her face. All she succeeded in doing was smearing it into something unrecognizable. "Did I get it?" she asked hopefully.

I sighed, realizing it was useless. "Yes," I lied.

She sat next to me on my bed as we both watched cartoons. Slightly had joined in and was crunching noisily on chips from his seat on the floor. I couldn't help but notice how many times Kim glanced down at him. I coughed inconspicuously into my sleeve and remained silent, only to bust up laughing at a dumb comment made by Patrick the starfish.

The show went to a commercial and I saw Kim turn to me from of the corner of my eye. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to say something.

"Do you like Wendy? Like honestly and truly?" Kim asked, her chocolaty-brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"'Like' totally," I said, flipping my hand at her.

She ignored the fact that I was poking fun at her as she went on, "Because I can help you get her."

My eyebrows skyrocketed. I was intrigued, to say the least.

"If," Kim continued, holding up a finger, "you do something for me."

I held up a hand to stop her. "I won't kill anyone." I debated inwardly. "Assault, maybe."

My words were greeted with an awkward silence.

"That was a joke," I informed her.

"Ohhh," she said, flashing me a smile. "I get it. Haha! You're funny, Peter."

How could this airhead be friends with my beloved Wendy? I was surprised Wendy had the patience for her. I cleared my throat and allowed her to continue.

"Well…I'll go into the specifics later," said Kim. It didn't escape my attention that her eyes flicked briefly to land on Slightly. I understood her idea at once; Kim would help me get Wendy if I helped _Kim _get Slightly. Well, that would be easy. I could just command Slightly to go out with her.

"Don't bother," I said cheerfully. "I get it. When do you want to start?"

Kim sighed in relief. "As soon as possible."

Despite my urge not to, I switched off the TV, much to Slightly's unhappiness. "Get out," I growled at him. Scowling at me, he slunk out into the living room to leave me alone with Kim.

"Okay," said Kim. "The best way to get to Wendy's heart is to like…like things that she does."

"Did you just use 'like' twice in a row?" I asked, impressed.

She blinked at me.

"Sorry," I said, grinning at her apologetically. "Do go on. What does Wendy like?"

"You're going to need a pen and paper," she advised me.

I acted quickly to acquiesce to this. I then looked up at her expectantly, a pen poised in my itching fingers.

"Her favorite song is _Build Me Up Buttercup_ by The Foundations," said Kim as I scribbled away on a piece of paper.

I paused to let out a rough laugh. "Are you serious? That's oddly fitting."

Kim ignored this. "She hates scary screamy music. U2 is a good choice and same with all those British bands she didn't let go of when she came to America," she added, rolling her eyes in a judgmental sort of way.

"Favorite movie?" I prompted.

"_10 Things I Hate About You,_" said Kim. This time she looked as if she approved. "She's in love with Heath Ledger, may he rest in peace. She thinks the most romantic scene ever was where he did the whole song and dance for-" Kim trailed off after seeing my confused look. I had never seen the movie, though the title also seemed fitting for Wendy.

I looked down at my notes and scrawled, _Watch chick flick. R.I.P. Ledger. _"What else?" I asked.

"She's strongly against the American version of the show 'The Office', and will only watch it if it's on BBC. Her favorite color is light blue. She can't dance and she can't sing and she gets pissed if you try to make her. I suggest not taking her places where singing and dancing are involved." Kim gave me a meaningful look.

"No wonder Wendy didn't like our first date," I mumbled to myself. Raising my voice, I asked, "What _is _her ideal date?"

"May 11," Kim replied.

I stared at her before I started laughing. "No, I mean…A _date_. As in, if I took her on a date!" However, curiosity got the best of me. "What's so special about May 11?"

"It's her birthday," Kim explained, looking foolish. "Sorry about that. Um…well no one's ever taken her on a date besides you…and I don't think you count. But I think she'd like doing something that she'd do with her friends anyways. Like a movie or shopping or something. Food. But nothing too drastic. Oh and she really likes barbeque-flavored Fritos."

I scribbled away, nodding wordlessly. I then paused long enough to say, "It kind of feels like I'm a stalker or something."

Kim didn't deny this. Instead, she demanded that I share some information about Slightly. I sighed. "Kim, there's really only one thing you can do. Hand him some food and he'll fall for you instantly."

The slightly Asian-looking girl watched me, shocked.

I handed her a bag of half-eaten Cheetos. "Try it," I insisted. I then called loudly for Slightly.

"What?" he asked, sounding bored as he poked his head through my doorway.

Kim silently handed Slightly the Cheetos.

The blond boy perked up instantly, flashing Kim a wide smile. "Thanks," said Slightly. He wandered away, munching thoughtfully. I knew he was secretly thinking about how great Kim was.

"And there you have it," I said, waving my hand dramatically after my friend as Kim hastened to follow him. "He's obviously bananas about you." I don't think the food reference was a coincidence.

I glanced over all my notes, knowing how difficult this was going to be. I sighed loudly to let everyone know how unhappy I was. When no one asked about my predicament, I sighed even more loudly and even threw in a painful groan. Again, silence. Jeez, why wasn't anyone concerned about me?

I stood up, throwing my notes down on the bed and I stomped out into the living room. Most of the lost boys were snickering amongst themselves.

I suddenly saw why. My mouth fell open as I caught sight of Kim and Slightly making out on the couch. Slightly's hand was still in the Cheeto bag. I scowled as I went back to my room and slammed my door behind me angrily.

Life was so unfair.

--

**A/N: Okay, I kinda stole Wendy's character from myself because of the whole favorite song and favorite movie thing. And plus BBQ Fritos were made by angels. XD anyways, thanks for reading and please review. **


	22. Build Me Up, Buttercup

**WENDY'S POV**

"Lunch is about to start," I told Rufio as I opened the truck door to step out onto the curb. We had been stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, much to our displeasure. To drown out the silence, Rufio had cranked up loud music I didn't particularly care for and had started drumming on his steering wheel to the beat. I was lucky to escape with my eardrums still intact.

"Really?" Rufio questioned, looking intrigued. "Is that an offer that you're going to buy me lunch?"

"Is this my payment for having you drive me to school?" I shot back nervously. In my mind, he had no right to be thanked because he had tortured me more than he had done me a favor.

"I could always hit you with my truck," Rufio suggested with a light shrug.

"That won't be necessary," I said, getting back into the vehicle. "Alright, I'll buy you lunch." I stayed in the truck a little longer as Rufio turned into the student parking lot. There were plenty of open spots because most of the people who had the luxury of having a car were out on an off-campus lunch break. Everyone else either walked or took the bus.

We parked and I got out, grabbing my books. Rufio and I walked side-by-side into the 9th-12th grade portion of the school and I found my locker and stored my books, glancing nervously around the empty hallways for any sign of Fred Starkey. I prayed that he had dropped out of school when he joined the life of a pirate.

A shrimpy-looking kid that I vaguely recognized slinked out from behind a corner. He froze when he saw Rufio. I supposed I would have been nervous too considering Rufio wasn't in his school uniform. Perhaps the shrimpy kid thought my companion was a terrorist. I wouldn't blame him.

_"What are you looking at, worm?" _Rufio roared at the kid. Shrimpy let out a yelp and instantly disappeared down the way he had come.

"Did you really have to do that?" I asked Rufio darkly. "You really need to work on your people skills."

Rufio gave me a pointed smile in response. I gulped and looked away, forcing my feet to take me to the cafeteria.

The lunchroom was as crowded as usual as I searched for familiar faces. Zandra waved at me from the table we normally sat at. I even spotted Kim. This made my stomach twist in anger; I wondered what she had done with Peter. I almost started towards her to demand about it, but Rufio held me back.

"Food, remember?" Rufio prompted.

"Oh," I said. "Right." Throwing Kim a glowering look, I led Rufio to the lunch line. I picked out some rubbery chicken and a wilted salad. Rufio took a little of everything.

"Wendy," the lunch lady greeted me. "You don't have any money in your account."

Drat. I had forgotten that I had never given the lady a ten dollar bill for this week's lunch. I groaned and looked at Rufio apologetically. He bent his face down close to mine and whispered, "Distract her."

"Why?" I asked.

"Just do it," he mouthed as he backed away from me.

Um…Okay. I turned back to the lady and started asking her how her day was.

The woman, Dolores, was taken by surprise. "No one ever asks about my day," she said, with a slight frown. "It's been hell, actually. Someone stole about two boxes of the mash potato mixings. Whoever it was obviously didn't want me to make any today." I could see why. She was a terrible cook.

"That's depressing," I sympathized with her, watching Rufio out of the corner of my eye. He was edging away with the tray of food, deciding he shouldn't have to pay for it if I couldn't.

Dolores smiled at me. "You know what, honey? You just go ahead and eat your food. You can pay me later."

This caught my attention. "Thank you, Dolores," I said, struck by her kindness. Now I felt bad for not ratting out Rufio for stealing. I took my tray and headed out into the crowd, where Rufio was standing to meet me.

"That was pretty sly, wasn't it?" Rufio asked with a sneer.

I looked at him suspiciously. "You didn't happen to steal two boxes of mash potatoes, did you?"

"What are you talking about?" he spat, looking at me with disgust.

"Never mind," I said, sighing as I sat down at my friends' table. Rufio sat down next to me, raising his eyes to Zandra and Kim.

"You two were at the party," he said quite obviously, before ripping a strip of meat from his drumstick with his teeth. I grimaced at this.

I glanced at Kim. "What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice indifferent. "And how did you get here before me?"

"Peter," she explained. She didn't have to say anymore. Peter was a pro at beating me to places.

"Is he here?" I questioned, as if I didn't care one way or another. Which I didn't. I just wanted to make sure _she _knew that too.

Kim gave me a secret smile. "He just dropped me off."

I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously. "What did you two do?"

"I hung out at his house," said Kim. She had a dreamy look on her face.

"Looks like you're in love," I said accusingly. I didn't mean for it to come out that way, but I couldn't help it. I also noticed how red and swollen her lips looked. My stomach felt sick as I imagined her making out with Peter.

Some friend she was.

Kim waved my words away as if they were nothing, but I could still see that strange glint in her eye. It was as if she knew something I didn't. The mere thought of this made my blood boil. Trying to keep my hands from shaking, I stabbed my chicken angrily.

That's when I heard a voice over the intercom.

--

**PETER'S POV**

Once I had looked up on the Internet what scene Kim had been talking about on _10 Things I Hate About You_, I immediately jumped into action. I'd dragged Kim out of my apartment and had practically flown her to school. I then explained my situation to the elderly lady at the front office and had to give her a few compliments on her dress before she allowed me to have access to the PA system.

I cleared my throat before pushing the large, dreaded button that allowed the entire school to hear my voice.

"Uh," I said, hearing my voice echo mournfully outside in the hallways outside of the office, "hello everyone. This is Peter Pan." I paused dramatically before continuing, "This is a song for my beloved." Everything was silent before I opened my mouth and began to sing.

"'_Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down…'"_

--

**WENDY'S POV**

_"…and mess me around? And then worst of all, you never call, baby, when you say you will. But I love you still! I need you, more than anyone darlin'; you know that I have from the start…'"_

I gaped in horror at the square black box high up on the wall in which Peter's singing voice was pouring out for everyone to hear. I looked over at Kim to find that she was smiling and trying to keep herself from giggling.

_"'So build me up, buttercup, don't break my heart…'"_

This was so…_wrong. _

Peter was singing _my _favorite song to _Kim._

Furious, I stood up and threw my tray down on the table, food flying every which way. I stomped across the cafeteria floor, ignoring Kim's cries for me to come back.

--

**PETER'S POV**

I switched off the PA system and leaned back in the comfy office chair I had purloined and conquered in the name of Great Britain. Of course, I had done so to melt the heart of my beloved Wendy.

"Alright, that's enough," the old lady declared, trying to shoo me out from behind her desk. "That's my chair."

"Someone's feeling patriotic today," I told her, ignoring her confused look. "I'm sure the American Revolution all began over an office chair." She obviously didn't get what I was saying because she smacked me over the head with a Manila file folder.

"Out!" she snapped.

"Alright! I'm going, I'm going!" I cried, shielding my head as I ran from her office. Bitter old bat.

As soon as I stepped out into the hall, I was shoved roughly out of the way only to knock my head against the glass door. Through my surprise, I could see Wendy disappearing around the corner. "Wendy!" I exclaimed in delight, ready to chase after her. I was then shoved back into the door again. This time, it was by the oaf named Rufio.

What was going on?

"Hey!" I cried after him. He ignored me and continued to pursue Wendy. I then heard footsteps running behind me and _another _body collided into me. I spun around and caught Kim by the arm. "What's the big idea?" I demanded.

"Sorry," Kim panted breathlessly. "I didn't see you."

"What's wrong with Wendy?" I asked, frowning as I released her.

"I don't know!" Kim moaned, looking frantic. "She just went ballistic! I sent Rufio to catch her."

"He listened to you?" I asked, impressed.

"I had to bribe him with the rest of my lunch," Kim explained.

Ah, every guy's weakness.

"Hold my hand," I commanded Kim. She did as she was told and I instantly was off running, pulling Kim along behind me. Hundreds of lockers rushed pass before we finally came to a halt out in the courtyard in front of the school. Rufio was trying to drag Wendy back inside and she was screaming nonsensical words at him.

"Is it that time of month, or something?" I asked Kim in an undertone, dreading her reply.

"Let _go _of me!" Wendy shrieked at Rufio. That was when she caught sight of Kim and I. I could see her eyes zone in on our hands. I dropped Kim's hand instantly, trying not to look guilty. "YOU!" Wendy bellowed at me. Was that a tear on her cheek? I watched in disbelief, my mouth slightly gaping open. Wendy advanced on me, and I made no move to protect myself as she started hitting me in the chest. It didn't really hurt that much, but it still hurt my feelings that she would want to beat me up.

"What's wrong, Wendy?" I asked calmly, trying not to sound as bewildered as I felt.

"You…_bastard!" _she spat at me, aiming a blow at my cheekbone. I stumbled back, surprised at the pain she had caused me. She turned away from me to face Rufio. "YOU'RE TAKING ME HOME. NOW."

Rufio, for once, looked too scared to challenge her command. He instantly ran off to the parking lot to start up his truck as Wendy stomped behind him with her fists clenched in fury.

"Holy crap," I said, my voice coming out as slightly squeaky. "What in the hell did I do?"

--

**WENDY'S POV**

"I hate him, I hate him, I _hate _him," I snarled, mostly to myself as I kicked furiously at the dashboard in Rufio's truck.

"Hey!" Rufio exclaimed. "Watch it! You'll set off the airbag!"

_"I don't care!" _

"Jeez, Wendy," said Rufio, throwing me a startled look. "What's _wrong _with you, huh? What did this Peter guy do to you?"

I swore every cuss word in the book as a response.

A smile tugged at Rufio's mouth. "Good answer," he replied darkly. He flicked his eyes off of the road to watch me carefully. "Seriously…what the hell is going on? I mean, it's not like I care all that much about your situation…But I'd like to know why I have to waste all my precious gasoline on you."

"Did you _not _hear him over the intercom?" I seethed.

"I heard him sing a retarded song from the Stone Age if that's what you mean," Rufio replied, looking disgusted.

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, my hands still shaking. "It's my favorite song! And somehow he _knows _that."

"And you're angry…why?" Rufio asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I sighed. Rufio wasn't the most sensitive guy out there. "Because," I hastened to explain, "he sang the song to _Kim_. Can you believe that? He's trying to rub it in my face, that obnoxious bastard…"

"Well, I don't like him either," said Rufio unkindly, "but that doesn't mean-"

_"Shut up!" _I hissed at him, trying to think. Why would Peter do such a thing to me? Was this payback for how awfully I had treated him? I hung my head, knowing that I probably deserved this pain.

I could feel Rufio watching me as we waited at a red light. "Do you want me to beat him up?" he asked, shrugging. "Of course, I would need a little compensation…" Rufio rubbed his fingers together to indicate that money should be involved.

"No," I sighed, defeated. "Just let me off here."

Rufio pulled illegally up onto the curb and I stepped out of the truck. He was about to drive off when suddenly he got out onto the sidewalk, walking towards me.

"Leave me alone," I snapped at him, somewhat surprised. I then noticed that his eyes weren't focused on me, but were looking pass me. I spun around to find that Peter was advancing on us, his face pale and emotionless.

"Stay away from her," Peter snarled at Rufio.

Rufio stood his ground with his arms crossed. "I don't think she wants to talk to you, pinhead."

"Pinhead?" Peter questioned, raising his eyebrows. There was no amusement on his face as he took this insult. "Step aside or I will be forced to push you aside."

Rufio snorted.

Peter lunged at him. Suddenly, they were both down on the sidewalk killing each other.

--

**A/N: Oooh jealousy can be fun. Sorry that I switched between Wendy and Peter so much…but I thought it would be necessary since they were apart from each other. REH-VIEW!!**


	23. More Pain for Peter

**PETER'S POV**

I must say, I think I went a little more psycho than I had originally intended.

I noticed my right fist was bleeding after Rufio had rolled sideways on the ground to avoid a blow to the cheekbone, leaving me to scrape my knuckles against the concrete instead. "Ouch," I commented, slightly amused as I watched something dark and red ooze out from between my folded fingers.

Smiling grimly, I retreated from Rufio's crouched body and stood up to brush the dust off of my clothes. I flicked my eyes up lightly to touch Wendy's startled face. She was watching me in clear horror, her mouth twisted down slightly in a gape.

Rufio still has his hands clenched into fists, ready to strike. His face was the exact opposite of Wendy's; there was blood-red hatred pulsing in his eyes and a vein throbbing at his temple. Grey sidewalk dust was powdered across the left half of his face and I could see that his lip had burst, a fine trickle of blood winding down his chin.

_"What's the matter with you?" _Wendy demanded, almost at once.

"I apologize," I said pleasantly. "I got a little angry."

"A _little_?" Rufio repeated, his mouth falling open in fury. "I don't try to beat the snot out of people when I get a _little_ angry."

The slight twitch at Wendy's mouth indicated that Rufio was a failure as a liar. I smiled at this, something Rufio took as hostility. He raised his fists again, as if he expected me to attack.

I held up my hands in a half-hearted surrender. "I don't want to fight anymore, Rufio."

"That's just because you were losing," Rufio snarled, his voice riddled with accusation.

I laughed a little too lightly for the occasion. "I could have easily pinned you if my motivation had been a lot stronger."

Wendy's shockingly calm voice startled me. "I'm not motivation enough?" she questioned, her voice almost teasing.

I blinked at her in surprise. I could see that she was trying to relax her shoulders from the clear stress my attack on Rufio had added. I don't see why she wasn't used to this by now. After all, I had the tendency to assault people that were either irritating me or causing me to feel any twinge of jealousy.

Not that I was jealous.

Looking at Rufio, I almost laughed a little. His finely gelled red-and-black spikes looked vaguely alien. The height of his hair constantly reminded me of a pissed-off cuckoo bird.

How could I ever be jealous of a skunk-head who used too much mousse?

"What's so funny?" Rufio demanded, narrowing his eyes at me as I threw my head back and laughed.

"Nothing," I insisted, not bothering to muffle my laughter.

He clearly wasn't convinced as he opened his mouth to argue. That was when something loud and dangerous exploded, causing passerby to scream in horror and duck their heads beneath their hands.

I was falling backwards, my mouth opened in surprise as something ripped through my shoulder, shredding my flesh. Something hot was staining my clothes and pain ran down the length of my arm, making my fingertips tingle unpleasantly.

That was when I became conscious that I was lying on my back and that my head was throbbing. Another loud crack echoed across the street and a window above me shattered, shards of glass raining down on me. I closed my eyes just in time, feeling the hot pinpricks on my cheeks and along my collarbone.

Wendy was screaming…or perhaps it was Rufio. I almost smiled at the thought of my rival screeching his throat hoarse as he hid cowardly behind Wendy.

"Oh shit!" Rufio exclaimed in a panicky, almost excited voice as he leaned over me. "You just got shot!"

A grim smile tugged uncontrollably at my mouth. "You, my friend, are quite the observer."

Wendy was instantly at my side. I could see she was glancing around fearfully, looking for the shooter. My guess was that it was Hook and that he was already safely away. I scowled at the new level the pirate captain had sunken to…It was almost pathetic.

"Don't worry about Hook," I told the pretty girl who leaned over me. I didn't like the terror in her eyes.

"I'm not worried about Hook," she snapped at me. "I'm worried about you."

I couldn't help but feel the warmth that pulsed in my ears. If I was blushing, I don't think she noticed. Her eyes were glued to the blood seeping from my left shoulder, her mouth stretched into a tight line.

"You need to stop getting into trouble," Wendy informed me as she removed her uniform vest and used it to wrap around my wound, after removing her house key and cell phone from the pockets. I could see the front of her white blouse was getting wet, the bloody stain spreading quickly across her middle.

I didn't answer her as I lifted my eyes to Rufio who was watching me with fascination. At least he didn't look as if he wanted to pummel me.

"Does it hurt?" he asked curiously, frowning at my blood.

"Naw, ya think?" I replied sarcastically. I rolled my eyes impatiently, waiting for Wendy to finish. I started forming plans in my mind of how I would get back at Captain Hook.

Wendy's soft voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Your face is healed," she said in slight surprise. I focused on her eyes as she stared straight back at me.

"You just noticed?" I questioned innocently.

"How did you heal so fast?" she pressed, her mouth twisted into a frown. I could still see the half-healed cut across her own cheek. In a strange and sick way, the scrape almost made her look even more beautiful than usual.

I grinned at her despite myself.

She scowled at me, her bottom lip puckering out. I wondered if she knew how completely unthreatening that made her look. "Fine," she snapped. "Keep your secrets. I'd like to see your shoulder work that same magic. I bet the bullet is still in there."

"I hope someone called an ambulance," said Rufio absentmindedly, "'cause there's no way I'm driving him to the hospital. He'll ruin my leather seats."

It was Wendy's turn to roll her eyes.

"You know what you should do?" Rufio added in my direction. "You should pull the bullet out with you bare hand. That'll impress her."

"More like make me vomit," Wendy said, her voice dripping with acid. She turned her icy eyes on me and told me, "If you even think about it, I'll slap you unconscious."

The whole "slapping unconscious" bit reminded me of how she had beaten me mercilessly back at school. She was distracted enough with my wound that I had the chance to ask her about it.

"So…Wendy…," I said casually as she flipped her phone open to punch in 911. It was a waste of time, I knew, because I could already see flashing lights coming in our direction. A cop was never too far away in this town.

"So…Peter…?" Wendy replied, matching my tone as she closed her phone after having heard the sirens blaring.

"Was there a reason why you were so angry with me earlier?" I asked as indifferently as someone who had blood covering half of them could.

Shock flicked across Wendy's face, though she quickly tried to hide it. Her eyes became cold as they searched mine for answers. "Why don't you ask Kim?" Wendy suggested bitingly.

I frowned, surprised at her reply. "Oh," I said slowly, "I had it in my head that you just didn't like my singing." That was a lie. I knew it had something to do with Kim all along.

"Did you?" Wendy asked, her voice tight.

"Are you still mad?" I asked her, pretending I didn't know already.

She sighed. The fury ebbed slowly away from her face. "How can I be mad at you, Peter? You could be dying for all I know."

Rufio was watching us impatiently, annoyed at our banter. He was clearly waiting for something a little more exciting to happen. Like another gunshot.

I hoped he would be the next one hit.

"I'm glad you're not mad," I told Wendy sincerely. "Though I do think you're slightly retarded, no offense."

Wendy gaped at me. "How am I not supposed to take offense to that?"

That was simple. Everyone always added "no offense" to an insult they definitely wanted someone to take offense to. It made people feel less guilty about saying something mean.

I smiled at her and hastened to explain. "Whose favorite song is by The Temptations?"

"Mine is," Wendy snarled.

"And who was I so besotted with from the beginning?" I prompted, trying to ignore the shooting pains in my shoulder. I winced anyways and her eyes flicked to my wound with concern.

"Me," she said in a hesitating voice.

I grinned, having proven my point. "You should stop jumping to conclusions…even when I sneak off with one of your best friends for hours at a time. She was merely a pawn in my little plot to get you to like me."

Wendy frowned. "That traitor."

"I wouldn't be too harsh on her," I advised, noticing the cops pouring out onto the sidewalk, running in our direction. "Like me, she was strongly motivated. Ask her about Slightly one day."

"What happened?" several officers shouted at once, circling us like vultures.

"He got shot," said Rufio, as completely obvious as before.

Unlike myself, the police seemed satisfied with this answer. They motioned for the EMTs to come swarming with a gurney and various medical supplies.

I thought about standing up and surprising them all with my amazing strength-because I certainly felt well enough to-but Wendy's concerned eye inspired me to milk it for all it was worth. I didn't feel the least bit weak…even with Rufio standing there watching me.

Wendy decided to ride with me in the back of the ambulance as Rufio decided to stay behind to talk with the cops. The police promised they would take him to the hospital under Wendy's request. I snorted, not understanding why Wendy would want Rufio anywhere near her.

"He's not that bad," she explained to me as we rattled side-to-side in the back of the speeding vehicle.

"He's a prick," I complained as the EMT guy leaned over me to remove Wendy's bloodied vest. The guy gave me an odd look as if I had said something terribly taboo.

"He's not the one that started the fight," Wendy reminded me. "That was you."

"He provoked me. He called me a pinhead. Can you believe that? A _pinhead._" I scowled at this. Rufio must have been out of his damn mind.

"Once you get pass his aggressiveness, he's half decent," Wendy insisted.

"Like you?" I suggested.

"Hush," said the EMT, annoyed. "You shouldn't be talking with you injured like that." He was looking at me when he said this.

"Why not?" I demanded, frowning. "I feel better already."

"Stop being all macho," said Wendy. "I bet that hurts like hell."

"I'm not being macho," I denied. "I'm being honest. Trust me, I know my body."

"Good for you," said Wendy, rolling her eyes.

The EMT guy gritted his teeth as he roughly attacked my arm with gauze. I took this as a cue to keep talking. "So, Wendy…last time I was mortally wounded, you…uh…gave me a little incentive to keep on living." I puckered my lips significantly at her.

She gave me a disgusted look. "You're not mortally wounded. Neither were you last time."

"I _could _be. You don't know. What if my wound gets infected? I could get gangrene and die."

"You're not going to get gangrene."

"What makes you so sure?" I demanded. "You know, you're going to feel awfully bad when I _do _end up dying."

Wendy's eyes flashed. "I'm not kissing you, Peter."

"Shut _up_," snapped the EMT guy when I opened my mouth to retaliate.

Scowling, I fell into silence.

--

**WENDY'S POV**

I nearly fell asleep in the waiting room as Peter got the bullet removed from his shoulder before a cop escorting Rufio showed up. I blinked sleepily as Rufio sat down next to me and the cop wandered off to talk to the lady behind the front desk to ask about Peter's status.

"Fun day, huh?" Rufio asked with surprising cheerfulness. He was never cheerful.

"You're just happy because Peter got shot," I accused, narrowing my eyes at him. "And to think…I had actually defended you."

"He's a prick," Rufio said blankly, as if I were missing the entire point.

"Sounds familiar," I muttered.

We sat in silence, watching the automatic doors open and close as more patients drifted in and out. Someone I wasn't expecting walked in casually with his hand tucked into the folds of his trench coat. Two others flanked him with identical, cruel smiles.

I could feel Rufio stiffen next to me, as if he sensed the trouble that had just walked in.

Captain Hook sat on the other side of me as Smee and Starkey busied themselves with hiding their faces behind magazines. I could tell that Hook had spotted the cop on the other side of the room by the way the pirate was leaning towards me, angling his face away from the officer.

"Wendy," James Hook purred into my ear. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Wish I could say the same, Hook," I said through my gritted teeth.

"How is Peter?" the pirate asked, smiling slightly as he ran the steel of his hook along the back of my hand. I winced at the cold.

"Living, thankfully," I said, glancing nervously at Rufio.

"I see you've made a new friend," Hook pointed out. "Too bad for him." The pirate leaned in closer, just so I could smell the putrid alcohol on his breath. My stomach knotted in disgust and fear as I tried to scoot away.

"You're going to take me to him," Hook commanded in a low voice. He gestured to the gun beneath his coat. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," I squeaked. I suddenly became aware of how tightly I was gripping Rufio's wrist with my left hand. He was wincing at me, trying to pull away.

A doctor came out and greeted us. "Mr. Pan is going to be fine," said the lady kindly. "Although…I pulled up his files. The only thing that came up was a clearly bogus form that someone filled out. Other than that, he was nowhere in our database. Can you explain that?"

"Um…," I said nervously, "no. Perhaps he doesn't have insurance."

"Well, according to the form…he was using the insurance of a Ms. Mary Darling. What did you say your last name was?" the doctor asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Er, Starling. Funny the two names should rhyme," I said, laughing uneasily.

"Funny indeed," the doctor replied, not looking convinced. "I hope Mr. Pan realizes that identity theft is a crime."

"I'm sure he does," I told her with a smile.

"Well, I'll be contacting Ms. Darling to be sure," said the doctor snippily. I was really starting to hate doctors. "I'll have to have one of the police officers pull up Pan's records…because as far as I know, Peter doesn't exist."

I shuddered as the doctor stepped away; she was ready to lead us back to Peter's hospital room. Hook and Rufio stood up with me and I could feel something sharp and threatening being pressed against my spine. I walked down the hall numbly, listening to my shoes click noisily against the familiar white tile; it had been my second hospital visit in less than a week.

I could feel the goose bumps prickle along my arm as I replayed what the doctor had said over and over again in my mind.

_Peter doesn't exist._

--

**A/N: Dun dun dun…Hope everyone liked the update. Comments? Questions? I'll take them all. **


	24. Hostility in the Hospital Room

**WENDY'S POV**

When we arrived at Peter's room, he didn't notice us at first because he was too busy harassing the nurse. "I specifically asked for cinnamon applesauce. Don't you people get anything right?" Peter demanded from the flustered young nurse who stumbled backwards with her tray. Apparently, the nurse had given him just plain applesauce and he didn't like that.

The nurse looked up at me and I could see the relief on her face as she bustled out of the room, after setting her tray down on one of the tables.

"HEY!" Peter bellowed indignantly after her. "I WANT MY CINNAMON APPLESAUCE!" He grimaced at me before adding, "Hello, Wendy."

I anxiously sat down in the chair next to his hospital bed as Rufio and the three pirates filed in after me. Peter didn't look at all surprised to see his extra guests. He politely offered the various chairs and even the end of his bed to make his enemies more comfortable.

"Now," said Peter after everyone was seated, "what are your terms, Captain?" He pleasantly smiled at Hook, waiting patiently for an answer.

"Terms?" Hook repeated, smiling crookedly. "I'm here to kill you, Mr. Pan."

Peter _tsk_ed at this response and then released a soft sigh. "You're terribly uncreative, James."

I could see Rufio frowning out of the corner of my eye. "Am I in danger here?" Rufio asked, glancing at Hook. "Did that guy shoot you?"

"Ah, clearly you haven't met my good friend, Captain Hook," said Peter to Rufio with a friendly smile. "We go way back."

"He maimed me," Hook added, gesturing to his steel claw.

Rufio looked confused. Poor thing.

"Right…well…," said Peter sheepishly, "so you say you're going to kill me."

"Aye," agreed Hook, sounding more like a pirate than he ever had before.

"That doesn't seem entirely fair," Peter argued. "I took your hand and you plan to take my life? You've already beaten the crap out of me…Isn't that enough? Lucky I heal so quickly."

"Hands don't grow back," Hook pointed out.

"Genius statement of the century!" Peter cried loudly, bursting into applause. No one else clapped.

I fidgeted nervously in my chair, suddenly thankful that the rest of my family was in London. That reminded me that I needed to call my mother because she was probably freaking out that I never called her back. Oh well, that would have to wait. Right now I would have to worry about my (ex?)-boyfriend getting murdered.

"I didn't come here to play around," Hook growled.

"Yes," Peter agreed. "You came here for something much more sinister. Though, if you don't mind, can I offer some reasons why you shouldn't kill me?"

"Why not?" replied Hook with a shrug.

"For one, you'll have a lot of explaining to do when I push the nurse call button and someone walks in to see blood smeared everywhere…And two, I'm one of the only people alive who's just like you. Well…there are a few others, like Smee, the lost boys, Tiger Lily, and her father…not to mention my cat, Tinkerbell. Alright, skip number two then. _Thirdly_, you have to admit your life will never be the same if you no longer have me to chase." Peter crossed his arms, convinced he was right.

"Who's Tiger Lily?" I questioned, utterly confused by his words.

"An ex-girlfriend," Peter explained, never taking his eyes off of Hook's face.

I scowled and slouched into my chair.

The mentioning of Tiger Lily had Hook distracted. "I haven't seen her in ages!" Hook exclaimed, scratching the stubble on his chin. "Do you remember the time when I tried to drown her? She was lucky you came just in time."

Ah, so I wasn't the only damsel in distress in Peter's life.

That was nice to know.

"Yes, I remember," said Peter darkly. "You're the reason she broke up with me. She was tired of nearly dying all the time…which reminds me of someone else I know, now that I think about it." Peter threw an accusing look at me before he continued, "You know, Hook, you're a terrible influence on my love life."

"Tiger Lily's father didn't seem to like me much either," replied the pirate lightly, tracing his lips with his hook. "He's still the chief of police, right?"

"Yeah, and I'm sure he'd love to get his hands on you," said Peter with a snort. "In fact, if I'm lucky, he might let me off without having to do a bunch of paperwork since you, you know, shot me and all. But I _do_ have to explain all of the identity fraud Wendy and I are involved in…" Peter sighed dramatically as if all of these were signs of a particularly difficult life. "Maybe you should just go ahead and kill me and get it over with."

I cut off Hook as I told Peter, "I was wondering about that. The doctor said you weren't in the database. I know you don't have insurance, but there were _no _files on you…How is that possible? You probably aren't even in the phone book." A thought struck me and I lowered my voice to a whisper as I asked, "Are you in the Witness Protection Program?"

I was surprised to receive booming laughs from all around the room. Peter was struggling to keep his face straight as he replied, "No, Wendy. I'm not."

Frowning, I muttered crossly under my breath as Captain Hook continued to laugh at me. "So you haven't told her the truth?" the pirate asked with a wide grin.

My eyes were practically popping out of my head as I cried, "The truth? What truth? Peter, what is he talking about? _Peter?" _Was he about to answer all of my questions? Everything that explained what made Peter so incredibly different from all the other boys at school?

"I will someday," Peter replied carelessly.

Drat.

"Uh, I don't know about you, Wendy," said Rufio as he stood up, "but I'm completely lost."

"You should join my gang of miscreants then. I'm sure you'll fit right in," Peter said cheerfully. He was, of course, referring to the lost boys.

"Yeah…well…I think I'm gonna go," said Rufio hesitantly as he slowly turned towards the door.

"Hold it right there, son," said Hook, aiming his gun at the boy's back. Rufio froze. "Now, why don't you sit down? I know for a fact that there is at least one cop out in the waiting room and I don't want you getting any funny ideas."

Rufio obediently sat down, though I could see that it was killing him to do so. He glared stonily at the gun being pointed at him. Sheesh, if it were me, I'd be pissing all over the place. Actually, it was a miracle that my bladder was still holding strong.

"Oh, put that away," said Peter, disgusted. "We can all settle this like gentlemen."

"Unlikely," I muttered from where I sat. Hook shot me a crooked grin.

Peter struggled to sit further up in bed. He was wincing as he glanced at his shoulder. "You know, Hook, that wasn't a nice thing you did there. That really hurt."

Hook shrugged apologetically. "I missed."

"Clearly," Peter replied with a grimace. "You need to work on your aim. Seriously. In fact, I'm a little insulted that my arch nemesis is such a lousy shot. What will the ladies think? My, my, my." Peter shook his head and released a dramatic sigh.

"If you're looking for a death row pardon, you're going at it the wrong way," Hook warned, patting his pistol lovingly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rufio sliding his hand out towards the table. An unopened cup of plain applesauce stood there looking extremely lonely. I nearly smiled as Rufio's fingers closed around it and drew it close to his chest. How anyone could be thinking about their stomach at a time like this was beyond me.

Hook was suddenly on his feet, pulling my thoughts away from food, applesauce or otherwise. The pirate captain advanced across the room towards Peter, holding his weapon out menacingly. I tensed, gripping the arms of my chair with pale knuckles. I shot a nervous glance at Rufio; his face was smooth and unfathomable. He twitched his eyes towards Smee, before turning his attention back on me. He then nudged his chin in the direction of the balding pirate.

Obviously he expected me to somehow attack the poor, stooped pirate.

Rufio must have been out of his damn mind.

"Do it," Rufio mouthed, his lips barely moving. "I've got Hook."

I anxiously looked around my chair. The only type of projectile I could find was an unused bedpan. I was surprised; I didn't think they used the old-fashioned metal ones in hospitals anymore. I stuck my foot out and hooked my toe beneath the lip of the bedpan, pulling it slowly towards me as I kept my eye on Captain Hook. The pirate was pacing in front of the bed, his icy blue gaze trained on Peter's face like a hawk.

"NOW!" Rufio bellowed.

A flying cup of applesauce collided with Hook's gun, knocking it from his hand. The pistol clattered to the floor and the applesauce burst open, spraying the wall with oozing goo. I was so surprised that I almost forgot to launch my weapon of choice.

Almost.

I flipped my foot up, aiming my leg in the direction of Smee, the bedpan flying off of my toes. The white metal slammed into the unsuspecting pirate's face and he fell backwards into the wall, sliding down to land on his butt. His eyes rolled back into his head and I knew that I had achieved success.

Hook was quick to recover and he instantly stumbled to get his gun. Luckily, Rufio was quicker; he grabbed the tan phone receiver from Peter's bedside table and flung it out. The phone sailed through the air, curly cord and all, only to clunk into the pirate captain's oversized nose.

"Looky, looky, I got Hooky!" Rufio exclaimed with pride as he kicked out at Hook's pistol, sending it flying under Peter's bed. Starkey went after Rufio, his teeth bared and his heavy eyebrows scrunched up like a gorilla that was thinking too hard. This was when Peter took action by hurling a pillow at poor Fred, using the distraction time to his advantage. Peter flipped over the side of his bed and snatched up the pistol, crouching low and holding his injured shoulder with his free hand. Smiling slightly, he swung his foot out and tripped Starkey.

I slid across the white tile and snatched Peter's hand, pulling him to his feet and running towards the door. Rufio was sprinting alongside us and it seemed as if it were taking eternity to cross the room.

Right as my foot cleared the threshold, there was an explosion of sound, sending my ears ringing as a gunshot reverberated off of the cold walls. I felt Peter's hand grow slack in my trembling fingers.

I could almost hear the smile in Hook's voice as he growled, "I always carry a spare."

--

**A/N: This chapter was kind of short. And it was only in Wendy's POV…sorry. I personally didn't like this chapter much so I'm sorry if I disappointed anyone…especially since I haven't updated in like a week. But my lack of updatingness wasn't entirely my fault. My internet hasn't been reliable and plus I'm trying to get caught up on all the summer reading assignments for school which are due Monday. So yeah…sorry again. Even if you want to tell me what an awful job I did, I'd be happy to hear it. So leave a review. Now. **


	25. Framed

**WENDY'S POV**

When I felt Peter's hand slip from mine, I knew something was wrong. All sound shut off abruptly, except for the dull pulsing of blood behind my ears and the low rasp of my breathing. It seemed impossible; just a second ago he was running alongside me, a triumphant smile curling at his mouth.

Now he was dead.

I knew there was nothing left but his lifeless body the instant my eyes zipped to see him, my head spinning at an impossible angle on my neck. He hadn't even hit the ground yet and that smile was still on his face, as if the realization of what had happened hadn't hit his mouth yet. It was his eyes, however, that gave him away. They were wide with shock, not necessarily horror, but with a dumbfounded surprise that let me know he wasn't coming back.

Then he fell.

At first, I thought I was the one who was screaming, but I realized that I had never opened my lips. I touched them to make sure; they were firmly shut tight.

It was Peter who screamed. I had never heard such an inhuman screech from anyone like that before. He sounded like a wounded animal, anguished and torn. His hands were clenched into fists, every single one of his veins protruding from his pale skin.

His eyes scared me.

I had never been genuinely afraid of Peter, not even on the first night I had met him. Not until now. His eyes were burning, the flames rippling across his cheeks in his fury and despair. I knew if I didn't stop him, something terrible would happen.

My eyes fell on Rufio. The smile had finally been erased from his lips, now that he was lying sideways on the floor. The gaping hole at the base of his skull was revealed in the shine of the buzzing florescent lights, along with the splatter of red along the white tile. Little rivulets of blood made a spider web pattern across the floor, splashes of it staining the tops of my shoes and the bottoms of my pants.

"You…you…," Peter gasped, struggling for words as his smoldering eyes burned a hole in Hook's forehead.

Nothing could erase the sinister smile from Hook's smug face. He still held the pistol with his one good hand while he ran his hook gently under his own chin. "You thought I wouldn't be able to do it," Hook stated calmly. I half-expected him to burst into laughter.

Peter started for Hook, a determined look on his face. I instantly grabbed Peter's elbow and pulled him back. "No," I pleaded, trying to keep myself from crying hysterically. "He'll hurt you." My voice cracked. Crying silently, my gaze flicked to Rufio. Was that really him lying on the floor? "Don't do it. Please, Peter. _Please. _This isn't a g-game anymore."

"IN CASE YOU WEREN'T PAYING ATTENTION, HE JUST KILLED RUFIO," Peter roared, shaking my hand away roughly. I grabbed him again, this time squeezing his skin tightly in my boney fingers.

"We h-have to go," I told him. A sob escaped my lips and Peter reluctantly tore his eyes away from Hook to look at me. The fire in his eyes subsided slightly and he gently placed his hand against my cheek, giving me a small smile. I could feel his hand shaking against my skin, no matter how hard he tried to still it.

"Go and find some help," Peter whispered before withdrawing his hand. I could hear the click of Hook's pistol as the pirate captain waited impatiently for us to finish. Peter clutched my shoulders and steered me gently through the doorway.

The last thing I heard from him before he closed the door was, "Don't wait for me."

--

**PETER'S POV**

I was going to murder every last one of them.

Hook had completely crossed the line. The idea that there was a dead body lying on the floor just a foot away seemed a little too surreal for me. Sure, I was used to having my life threatened and the like…but I never knew that Hook had it in his heart to _kill _someone.

Especially someone he didn't even know.

I'll admit, Rufio wasn't exactly my cup of hot cocoa, but he certainly didn't deserve to die, especially since he helped save my ass. I was anguished that I had let Rufio die in my stead. It should have been me with the bullet in the head, and Hook knew that. Hook had decided to hit me where it hurt the most. The only thing I could be thankful for was that it wasn't Wendy.

If Hook had killed Wendy, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

I blinked that thought away as I crossed the tiles slicked with Rufio's blood. Hook and his cronies were waiting for me, looking relaxed as I got closer and closer. I could hear footsteps thundering out in the hallway. It seemed that Wendy had sent in the cavalry.

Everyone in the room froze and I could hear the seconds ticking by on the clock on the wall. Hook waited to see what I would do and I waited to see what the police would do. It sounded as if the cops had run right by our door without stopping.

"What are you going to do, Peter?" Hook finally asked, amusement curling on his face.

I was about to put the _Pan_ into _panic_, that's what.

"What, aren't you going to try and kill me?" Hook asked, pretending to be shocked after I didn't make a move towards him.

I remembered the look on Wendy's face right after Rufio died, when I was about to advance on Hook. There was a fear behind her eyes that I had never seen before, but I knew that she wasn't scared of Hook.

She was scared of _me. _

She was scared _for _me.

Gritting my teeth, I lowered my eyes to the floor. Wendy would never look at me the same way again if I murdered Hook. I knew I could do it, too. Hook might have had the gun, but I was quicker and I was stronger. It would have been easy…And the feeling of his constricted throat between my fingers would have been the most satisfying emotion I had ever experience.

I closed my eyes. _No, _I thought. _Not today. _

The door burst open and three cops filed in with their guns out. Hook and the pirates began cowering against the far wall, which confused me. Something tapped against my foot and I looked down to see that Hook had slid his pistol over to me on the floor. I bent down and picked it up, trying to understand the captain's motives.

That's when I realized all of the police were aiming their weapons at me.

"PUT THE GUN DOWN, NOW!" one bellowed.

I looked at the gun in my hand and then I looked at Rufio's dead body.

This did _not _look good.

I couldn't help myself. "Shit," I said.

I dropped the gun onto the tile and shoved my hands up into the air, grimacing at the police apologetically.

"Thank goodness you came," the pirate captain cried, conveniently hiding his hook behind his back. "I don't know what would have happened if you all didn't come in when you did. He was about to kill us!"

Hook almost grinned at me as one of the police started patting me down in my hospital gown to make sure I wasn't hiding anything. He then roughly pulled my arms behind my back and cuffed me. He told me my rights before shoving me face-first into the wall.

"Hey!" I complained, my voice muffled against the wall. "I didn't do it!"

The police officer laughed. He must hear that a lot. "Save it for court."

"No seriously!" I cried, earning a swift kick to the back of my leg. "Ask Wendy! She'll tell you everything! Where's the police chief? I know him personally. I dated his daughter, you see, and we all come from the same place."

"Shut _up_," the cop bellowed. I could see the pirates slipping out into the hall inconspicuously. They were getting away!

"STOP THEM!" I roared. The cop spun me around and punched me in the face. Were cops allowed to do that? I didn't think they were. My vision blurred as I brutally fell to the ground. My face collided with something wet, and a metallic odor stung my nostrils.

I was lying in Rufio's blood.

Shuddering, my eyes involuntarily closed and threw me into darkness.

--

**WENDY'S POV**

Sitting on the wooden bench, I drew my knees up under my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs. The police station was freezing; I could almost feel my tears icing over on my cheeks as I waited for news on what was happening.

After I had left Peter at the hospital room, I had gone back to the waiting room to alert the only cop there. He had taken me to his squad car to call for backup, and when more police came, he drove me to the police station to wait it out.

I had heard that the cops had gotten "the guy" over my escort's police radio so I asked if Peter was okay and they said he was fine. Despite my relief, I was still wounded by Rufio's death. He had risked his life for me and had ended up paying with it.

The door to the police station opened briefly and someone came in. It was a girl, as far as I could tell, with long dark hair and very tan skin. She was slenderly muscular with large brown eyes and a small mouth. She smiled at the secretary and said, "Is my daddy about? I just came to drop off an early dinner for him."

I frowned. The girl must have been the police chief's daughter. She wasn't drop-dead gorgeous or anything, but she obviously had been pretty enough to turn Peter's head.

Hmph.

"He's busy in interrogation room B, but he should be out shortly," said the desk lady kindly. "But if you want, I can give it to him."

"I'll wait," the girl replied.

"Tiger Lily," I called from where I sat.

The girl turned to look at me. I could tell that she was a couple of years older than me; perhaps a college student. She walked towards me hesitantly, raising an eyebrow in an inquiring manner.

"Lily, actually," the girl corrected. "Only my dad ever calls me Tiger Lily." There was curiosity in her eyes. "How do you know me?"

I unfolded myself from my original position and stretched out my legs. "I don't know you," I admitted. "My…boyfriend does though. He mentioned you."

"Oh?" Tiger Lily asked in surprise. "Who's your boyfriend?"

"Peter? Peter Pan?" I threw his name at her as a question to see if she had really dated him.

Her expression hardened.

Yeah, she had dated him all right.

"You're dating Peter Pan?" Tiger Lily demanded.

Before I could answer, a side door opened up and a well-dressed officer came out looking very harassed. He must have been the police chief because he was as dark as Tiger Lily. I could see that Peter was following closely behind him with his hands held up to reveal the cuffs jingling at his wrists.

"Peter!" I exclaimed, forgetting to answer Tiger Lily. I rushed forward and gaped at his chains. "Were you _arrested_?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes," he said with a scowl, "and Chief Bigby is being mean and won't unlock me."

"You know I can't, Peter," said the chief in exasperation. "I have to wait for DNA results on that gun. If there's another set of prints then I'll believe your story."

"But you _know _Captain Hook. He tried to drown your daughter!" Peter argued. He glanced at the other girl. "Hey, Tiger Lily," he added.

She crossed her arms in response.

"Well I didn't _see _Hook at the crime scene and I'm not exactly that trusting of you, Peter. You _did _dump my daughter."

Wait…what?

"Hold on," I said loudly, interrupting them. "Peter, _you _dumped _her_?"

Peter gave me a sheepish smile.

I gaped at him. "Are you _crazy?_"

"I've been told of such," said Peter, grinning at me.

"So, what, you dumped me for _her_?" Tiger Lily demanded, looking me up and down.

Peter looked like he had just gotten into a very bad situation and he was edging away from Tiger Lily nervously. Did Peter really break up with her for me? I had gotten the impression earlier that Tiger Lily had been a girlfriend of his from a long time ago. I guess I was wrong.

"This is awkward," said Peter, as if saying so would make it any less awkward. "How about we get me out of these things and talk about it over coffee?" He held up his cuffs and looked at the chief imploringly.

Chief Bigby sighed and proceeded to de-cuff him. "Let me remind you that you were at the scene of a murder. This is very serious and I'll need to stay in touch with you if we want to get a hold of Hook."

"What about Rufio?" I asked, biting my lip and forcing myself not to start crying again.

The chief glanced at me. "The victim?" he questioned. "The autopsy is being performed now. We've contacted his family already."

"What about the funeral?" I demanded.

"As far as I know, I know nothing. Talk to his family."

I recoiled, my heart giving a start. I could never face his family after what had happened. Would they blame Peter? Would they blame _me? _

Peter draped his arm around me and steered me out through the door and down the steps to the sidewalk. Once we were outside, he hugged me fiercely to his chest and buried his face into my hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and I knew he truly meant it.

I took a step away from him and stated calmly, "I think now's the time for explanations."

--

**A/N: YAY! I've finally updated! School's been keeping me busy and the only reason why I've been able to update today is because I got to stay home cuzza that dang hurricane. Also, as I tried to write this chapter, the power kept going on and off so I almost gave up. That means I should get extra reviews for my trouble : D Oh yeah, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. I'm FINALLY gotten to the 100 review mark. Life is good now. **


	26. The Truth About Peter

**PETER'S POV**

I let out a long sigh and briefly swept my fingers through the tangles in Wendy's hair. She was staring at me unblinkingly with her wide blue eyes, her little mouth twisted into a frown.

"Alright," I gave in. "My only request is that you let me change out of this hospital gown first."

"Okay," she agreed as we started off down the sidewalk. I could tell that she was watching me out of the corner of her eye and I almost smiled at her effort. I was just waiting for her to say something when her hand came out of nowhere, lacing her fingers through mine.

I was so surprised I almost tripped on a deep groove in the sidewalk.

"W-Wendy," I spluttered before I could get control of my lips. She glanced at me, raising her eyebrows in inquiry. I wasn't fooled by her innocent expression. "Wendy!" I said again.

She shrugged and dropped my hand.

"No!" I cried, lunging towards her and snatching up her hand, cradling it to my chest. "You gave it to me. You can't take it back." To say I was shocked at Wendy's brief moment of affection was completely an understatement…I was trying extremely hard not to piss my pants in excitement.

I mean, she _had _kissed me before (which was pretty much amazing); but when she had kissed me it was more of a spur of the moment lust that her actually _caring _about me. Her holding my hand…now _that_ was different. Especially since it was voluntary and it wasn't to drag me out of trouble…It was just her wanting to hold my hand.

And that was special.

"So, you're not mad at me anymore?" I questioned as my apartment building swam into sight. I patted Wendy's hand lightly.

Wendy gave me a sulky look. "I've given up being mad at you. It doesn't do me much good. Besides, someone I know was murdered today. I'm a little too preoccupied to be mad at you."

I flinched, nearly dropping her hand. The expression on her face didn't look pleasant and I had the nagging feeling that she wasn't being truthful with me. I stopped her and put my hands on her shoulders. "Look," I said gently, "I didn't mean for this to happen. You have no idea how guilty I feel…to bring you into this mess and to bring Ru…" I trailed off. She knew of whom I meant. "I'm sorry," I finished.

The furious expression never left her face. "I'm not blaming you for anything," she declared stoutly, jutting her chin out. She was trying to hide how she felt, but I saw her face break. "I'm blaming m-myself." She choked on the sob that must have been hiding in her throat.

I gaped at her. _"Wendy!" _I exclaimed. "Wendy, you can't _possibly _think this was your fault!" I shook her gently, as if it would shake her ridiculous reasoning away. "No," I snapped, "you quit crying right now, you hear me? Don't you _dare _think you were responsible for Rufio's death. It was Hook, okay? And that bullet was _meant _for me." If I thought this would make her feel better, I was wrong.

Wendy cried harder.

"Dammit," I whispered. "Wendy, you make me want to kill myself when you cry. Especially when I know I'm the one making you do so. C'mon, please stop." I attempted to wipe her eyes with sleeve of my gown, but she fought me off. Don't girls know that their crying has a completely heart-wrenching effect on guys?

I sighed and just stood there and took it, letting her wet the front of the only garment I was wearing. It was a shame too because the fabric was too thin to begin with and her tears were making it nearly transparent. I suddenly felt extremely naked.

"Maybe we should go inside," I suggested as I swooped her up effortlessly into my arms. A stabbing pain ripped through my shoulder and I glanced over and could see that my bullet wound was bleeding again. I frowned; usually I healed quite quickly. Why was this wound taking so long?

Pushing that thought aside, I carried Wendy into the lobby of my apartment building and started for the elevators. I waved halfheartedly to the guy behind the desk. He gave me a suspicious look.

Once I had gotten inside my apartment, I ignored all the whoops and cheers from the lost boys as I carried Wendy into my room to set her down on my bed. I quickly pulled on an old pair of jeans before removing my gown and dropping it on the floor. I turned back to Wendy and took a deep breath before sitting down on the bed next to her.

"Okay, so you want to hear the whole story?"

--

**WENDY'S POV**

I hate crying. I really do. I hate it when people watch me cry or try to comfort me because it just makes me feel worse…Especially when I'm the only one crying. Though I must say, the quickest cure for tears is seeing Peter shirtless.

It was almost instantaneous when I stopped crying. Peter watched me suspiciously, as if he were waiting for me to go off again, before he began his story.

"Alright…Well for starters, I'll tell you the real reason why I broke up with Tiger Lily."

I leaned forward expectantly, hoping for something juicy.

"It did have something to do with her not wanting to die, but it was mainly the fact that she was all ready to grow up and I wasn't." He fiddled with one of his belt loops, not meeting my gaze.

"Wait…so you broke up with her because she wanted to grow up? I'm confused. Define 'grow up'." I frowned at him, cocking my head to the side. "Do you mean she wanted to get a job or something? Or did she think you were childish?"

"Eh," said Peter, scratching his head. "This is hard to explain. Okay, you know the saying, 'Didn't your mama ever teach you any manners'?"

"Sure," I said with a shrug.

"Alright, well wouldn't you say people without mothers can be immature? Childish even?" Peter watched me closely.

Recognition licked somewhere in my brain. "Wait," I said suddenly, "this doesn't have anything to do with the fact that the lost boys don't have mothers, does it?"

Peter surprisingly broke out into a smile. "You've been paying attention. Good girl. Yes, so, the lost boys are like me in that they don't have mothers. People like us don't easily grow up." He paused slightly for effect before continuing, "But something's happened since I met you."

"Oh?" I questioned.

Peter nodded glumly before glancing down at the wound in his shoulder. "I've gotten weaker."

"That's not exactly a romantic thing to say," I pointed out, "unless you're referring to the fact that I make you weak at the knees."

Peter laughed and launched himself backwards into his pillows, folding his arms behind his head. "What I mean is, I don't heal as quickly as I used to. I get _sick_." He made a face as if this idea particularly repulsed him. "And Hook was able to beat the crap out of me." He suddenly sat straight up, a strange look in his eye. "I think you're making me grow up."

"Are those alternate words for: 'you're making me want to be a better man'?" I joked, wiping the remaining tears from my cheeks. Peter was an easy distraction for everything bad that's happened.

"Not exactly," he replied, hiding his small smile with his thumb. "But I think you literally will be the death of me."

I frowned. "How so? I would have thought it'd be the other way around."

The corners of Peter's mouth jerked down to match my own. "I'm going to get old and decrepit and lose all my teeth and it'll be your entire fault."

I shrugged indifferently. I still had no idea what he was talking about.

Peter smiled suddenly and leaned real close to me, running a hand haphazardly through my hair. "But it'll be worth it," he breathed in assurance.

I was uncomfortable at his closeness so I inconspicuously leaned away, pretended to want the comfort of one of his wrinkled pillows. He didn't seem to notice because he stretched and popped his knuckles and glanced absentmindedly out of the window. Tinkerbell was curled up on his windowsill and was watching us with narrowed eyes.

She was a beautiful cat, but I didn't like her.

I snapped my fingers to get Peter's attention. "Okay, so you've told me you're growing up. How does that explain anything? I'm still confused, if not more so than before."

"I'm immortal," he said.

I gaped at him.

"Or at least I used to be." Peter smirked at me. "Thanks _a lot,_" he added sarcastically.

"I don't believe you," I said, crossing my arms in defiance. "You have to come up with a better explanation than that. You're talking about something I'd tell to my brothers as a bedtime story."

Peter snorted at this. "Wendy, my whole _life_ is a bedtime story."

I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. Surely he was joking. "So what," I said, "are you a vampire or something?"

"Would that bother you?" he asked curiously.

My mouth fell open.

He held up his hands hastily. "No! I was kidding! Of course I'm not a vampire. Vampires don't exist."

"Then what _are _you?"

"Why is this so hard?" Peter muttered to himself. "Well, I lived in this place where children never had to grow up."

"Where is it?" I asked, rolling my eyes. I decided to play along with his stupid game because I had nothing better to do.

"You know when you're in that state where you don't quite know whether you're awake or dreaming?" he asked.

I nodded.

"That's where it is."

"Okay," I said slowly, "so that's where you're from. Along with all of the lost boys, Hook and Smee, and Tiger Lily and her father?"

Peter drew up his knees under his chin in a very childish manner. He looked at me guiltily. "The lost boys weren't exactly born there. Neither were the others."

"No?" I questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"I brought the lost boys there," he explained.

"How?" I asked.

"I stole them."

There was a long awkward silence. I proceeded to frown at Peter as he played with the hem of his jeans and chose not to look at me. The way he said this, it was as if he had done some horrible thing.

After a few moments, Peter heaved a great sigh and said, "I led them away from their mothers so I wouldn't be lonely. They don't remember anything before Neverland, so I just told them they were born there."

"Neverland?" I prompted.

"That's what I call it," he explained.

"So you were the only one that was born there?" I asked.

He hesitated. "I can't be sure. If they don't remember anything before Neverland, then maybe I don't either. Only Slightly swears he remembers having a mother, but I think he says that just to make the others jealous."

"What about the others? Tiger Lily and them, I mean."

"Tiger Lily's mother died when she was very little. Her father was so wrought with grief that he vowed to do anything to protect his daughter. He somehow wound up in Neverland, one of the safest places in the universe."

"Hook was there as long as I was," Peter continued, "and we were best friends for a very long time. Back then, I called him James. When we ventured out of Neverland for the first time, I was careless enough to think that we were invincible here as we were in Neverland. Apparently we weren't. I first became acquainted with a car and that's how Hook lost his hand. I thought he was dead and I was scared the people in this world would imprison me if they knew what I was. So I ran." Peter lowered his head solemnly. "I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, but what I regret the most is my cowardice that day and my own selfishness. James-_Hook_, I mean-would probably be a different person if it weren't for me."

I watched the anguish flicker across Peter's face as he went on, "After I lost Hook's friendship, that's when I brought in the lost boys. I took them back to Neverland to keep me company. Hook took his own path. He met Smee and took him back to Neverland, where they found me and tried to plot my demise. As you can see, his band of miscreants has increased over the years. His heartlessness and his hatred for me have caused him to age, and he was forced back into the city. That's why he appears several years older than me. You can only have a pure heart to go to Neverland; Hook never went back again."

Peter bowed his head in shame.

"So what made you come back to New York after living with the lost boys? If you knew Hook was here, why would you want to leave Neverland?"

Peter sighed. "My guilt caught up with me. I wanted to try and atone for what I had done. I wanted Hook to forgive me. Unfortunately, he was past ever doing so. I stayed in New York for a while, and when I realized there was no hope, I left the lost boys and traveled the world. I went to your hometown once or twice, so I'm pretty sure that's where I've seen you before, even if it was just in passing. I think you were a little girl then, though."

"But you came back," I pointed out.

"I did," Peter agreed. "Again, it was my guilt that drew me back for leaving the lost boys in a strange world all by themselves. They were happy to have me back because they had learned a horrible truth."

"What truth?" I breathed.

"That Neverland was lost to them forever," Peter whispered. "They couldn't find their way back. It was like it was permanently closed to them. Maybe it was because the lost boys had grown attached to their new life and realized what they had been missing. Maybe they were no longer pure at heart. Whatever the case, they were trapped here. Even though_ I _could still go to Neverland, I couldn't bring myself to leave them again." I could see how unhappy Peter looked; he must have missed Neverland more than anything else in the world.

"So how did Tiger Lily get here?" I asked.

"Well, Tiger Lily and her father must have realized they were the only two people left in Neverland, so they came back. Her father must have known he couldn't shelter her forever, because she would want her freedom. Tiger Lily and I only started dating after she came back."

"Which ended after she decided to grow up and you didn't," I chipped in. "Though I'm confused; wouldn't you have started growing the moment after you left Neverland?"

"I thought I would too," Peter admitted. "But I guess the world realized I wasn't ready. The lost boys and I haven't aged much since we've lived here. Well, _I _hadn't until you came along. And I don't think the lost boys stand much of a chance either."

I looked away, having a strong sense of self-reproach. "So now you're weakening."

"I'm becoming human," Peter corrected. "If you consider that a weakness." After seeing the look on my face, Peter added quickly, "It's not so bad! The only miserable thing about it is that I know I'll never be able to go back to Neverland." Even though he said this as if he were indifferent, the true realization of this statement seemed to cross his face.

Then Peter did something that I never thought I'd see him do.

He cried.

--

**A/N: Ugh I actually finished this chapter a few days ago, but my Internet and phone line got fried cuzza Fay. We had a tornado go through our backyard and our shed and a lot of our fence line got smashed. We were lucky our horses didn't escape though or I wouldn't have been sad T.T But everything else is okay. I'm still alive : D School sucks more than usual because my calculus teacher (who also happens to be my dad) gave us a quiz today which he promised me we WOULDN'T have…grawr that butt. Anyways, I wasn't exactly happy with how I explained things in this chapter…so tell me your thoughts on it and I'll try to work a little bit each day on another chapter after school so hopefully I'll have another update some time this week. **


	27. Panties in the Cushions

**A/N: Ok to clear up those confused souls: I made Tiger Lily's dad chief of police because he was originally an "Indian" chief. Chief of Police…Chief of Indian Braves…See the correlation? And since they called him Big Chief…I changed it so he was Chief Bigby. Now onto the story…**

--

**WENDY'S POV**

I closed my eyes and listened to Peter's sobs. He was a little boy again, scared and lost in a big, unfamiliar world.

A soft mewing sound drew me from my thoughts and I opened my eyes just as Tinkerbell bounded onto the bed. She stalked by me, ignoring me completely, as she settled in Peter's lap, nuzzling his chin with her soft, yellowish fur. Peter smiled weakly.

"You're right, Tinkerbell," he whispered to the cat, as if she had spoken to him aloud. "I don't need Neverland if I've brought you all here." He furiously wiped his eyes with his forearm. They now looked red and swollen. "I'm sorry," he added in my direction. "I must look like a baby."

I shrugged carelessly. "I don't mind," I told him as Tink turned her lamp-like eyes on me, revealing her needle-like teeth. Peter kissed the top of the cat's head affectionately.

I frowned. Was it possible to be jealous of a cat?

"So what about her?" I asked, pointing at Tink.

Peter followed my finger with his puffy eyes to land on the creature curled up in his lap. He smiled sadly, intertwining his slim fingers into her fur and stroking Tink absentmindedly. "She looked a lot different back in Neverland."

"How so?" I asked, trying to make myself more comfortable as if he were about to launch into another long story.

"She was a pixie," Peter said, his smile growing. "She was the most beautiful little thing you ever would have seen. I guess this world didn't agree with her but she came regardless of what she looked like. This always surprised me because she had always been so vain. You know, she'd always look at her reflection a lot. Why she ever chose to follow me as a cat is anyone's guess. She _must_ have known that she wouldn't be able to fly once she came here…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

I bowed my head and stared at my patiently laced fingers. "She loved you," I said softly.

Peter looked up in surprise and I could see that Tinkerbell's ears had flattened against her skull and that her tail was swishing furiously. "What makes you say that?" he asked with a frown.

I sighed and looked away. Peter could be so dense sometimes. Hadn't he wondered why his feline friend had never liked any of his girlfriends? Hadn't he been even the slightest suspicious?

Suddenly I pitied Tinkerbell. Here she was, in a strange world with strange people, stuck in a strange body to boot. She was in love with someone who couldn't possibly love her back. And for that, I felt sorry for her.

Tinkerbell seemed to understand the forlorn glance I gave her because she stood up on her slender legs and walked away from us proudly. She was back on the window ledge, looking out at the busy street below.

I could see the reflection of her glazed eyes in the windowpane, as if she herself were looking back and missing those long years spent in Neverland.

--

Dusk was falling outside Peter's window when I awoke, having never remembered going to sleep in the first place. I glanced over and saw that Peter was dozing as well, his fingers laced behind his head and his legs stretched out so that his feet were dangling off of the end of his bed. The corners of his mouth were lifted up in a smile, his eyebrows arched in satisfaction. Was he dreaming of Neverland?

I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and soundlessly crossed the room. I opened the door wide enough for me to slip through, glancing back at Peter. He turned over in his sleep, tucking a curled hand beneath his cheek. It almost looked as if he were laughing as I silently closed the door behind me.

Only Slightly was in the living room, his hand buried into a bag of Cheetos. He glanced up at me, his cheeks bulging with a guilty look on his face. Maybe he expected me to be Peter and maybe Peter liked his Cheetos.

"Hi Wendy," said Slightly, relaxing back into the couch. I could see that a cordless phone was lying on the seat cushion next to him. He followed my glance to the phone and he smiled. "I'm waiting for Kim."

That struck me as a particular odd thing for him to say. I cocked my head to the side and frowned. "Kim?" I questioned.

"Yeah," said Slightly, frowning as well. "We're dating. Did Kim not tell you?" The thought of Kim not telling one of her best friends about her new boyfriend seemed to make Slightly extremely unhappy.

Everything seemed to click into place. "So _that's _what he meant," I said, mostly to myself, as I remembered what Peter had told me earlier when he had just been shot. "I suppose I owe Kim an apology." I then pointed at his phone. "Do you mind if I use that real quick? I need to make two phone calls."

"What if Kim tries to get a hold of me?" Slightly demanded.

"She's one of the people I'm calling, so don't worry. But I really need to call my mother. She's probably freaking out." It had been such a long day; it seemed as if last night's party was miles away.

"Hello?" my mother answered distractedly. There were loud noises in the background as if she were eating at a busy restaurant.

"Mum?"

_"Wendy!" _my mother cried, causing me to lean my head away from the receiver. Talk about ouch.

"Yes, it's me," I told her guiltily. "I'm sorry, I've been meaning to call you."

"Do you have _any _idea how worried I've been?" she demanded angrily.

"I'm _sorry_," I stressed. "School's been murder."

"What phone are you calling from? I don't recognize the number." I could hear the frown in her voice.

"I'm at Peter's house," I admitted.

"Peter?" my mother questioned. "It's a little too late to be at his house, don't you think? Especially on a school night."

"I was just about to leave," I assured her. "Besides, he goes to my school now. It was a study group."

"Oh," said my mother. "Well…please make it a priority to mention these things sooner to me in the future, okay? Oh, and Wendy? There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. I got a call from the hospital. Something about a bill? There was also some suspicion regarding someone using our insurance."

I gulped. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I figured you wouldn't," she sighed.

"How is everyone?" I asked, quickly changing the subject. "How is Michael? John?"

"They're fine, fine," she said hurriedly and it sounded as if she were distracted again. "I'm sorry, dear, but a waitress is just coming with our food. Your father took me to my favorite restaurant. You remember that Italian place, don't you?"

"Dad took you out?" I asked, surprised. "The boys too?"

"No, they're back at the apartment. I have to go now. Bye, darling." She didn't wait for me to answer before she hung up.

I blinked in surprise at the phone. My father had taken my mother out to eat? Like on a date? I stared at Slightly blankly. I was so used to my parents arguing whenever they spoke to each other, both still affected by their bitter past.

Now they were eating together?

The phone rang in my hand, making me jump. I pushed the "talk" button and before I could even say hello, I heard Kim's exploding voice on the other end. "Slightly?" she cried excitedly.

"Sorry, no," I said, trying to hide my smile from Slightly. "It's Wendy."

"Oh," she said uncertainly. "What's up?"

"Everything," I said with a sigh. "Did you hear about Rufio?"

"What did he do now?" she asked.

"He's dead," I said, as calmly as possibly.

Kim started laughing on the other end of the phone. I waited for her to finished before I added, "If you don't believe me then you can just watch it on the news. Here's Slightly." I was annoyed and heartsick as I handed the phone off to Slightly.

"I'm going home, okay? Tell Peter when he wakes up." I didn't wait for Slightly's distracted nod as I turned towards the door, exiting out into the hallway. I shoved my hands into my pockets as I came out of the elevator in the lobby. I was thinking of one thing only: Peter. I could still see the corners of his mouth curling as he slept, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Walking out into the gathering darkness, I bowed my head and smiled sadly to myself.

--

The week passed slowly and I didn't see much of Peter. The only time I saw him was when he waited outside of my school at the end of each day and walked me home. By that, I mean he carried me most of the way because I was usually slow and lethargic by the end of a school day.

It was Friday night that Peter actually stayed with me at my apartment. He helped me clean up what remained of Sunday night's "wild" party because my family would be returning home the following day.

"Look what I found!" Peter exclaimed, laughing. He held up a pair of pink and black panties that had somehow gotten wedged between the couch cushions.

I glared at him as I snatched it from his hands. "Those are _mine_."

His jaw slacked as he stared at me blankly. His hands were still up in the air as if he were holding an invisible pair of underwear. Searching for words, he managed to splutter out, "But how did they get _there_?"

I reminded him that a lot of drunken people had come in and out of my bedroom and that many of my things had mysteriously ended up in bizarre places. "Don't blame me," I told him innocently before adding, "Why don't you clean out the umbrella stand?" He probably didn't know about the girl who had thrown up in it.

I curled a hand around my ear comically and listened for his loud, satisfying, _"UGH!" _

"Wendy!" he cried, disgusted.

I smiled.

My immense pleasure was interrupted by the sound of a key jiggling in the lock from the front door. I spun around and looked at Peter in horror. He stood frozen, bent over the umbrella stand. He cautiously straightened up and glanced over his shoulder. The doorknob was turning slowly behind him.

The door burst open, smacking Peter in the face. He released a muffled cry, falling backwards into the wall.

"What on earth was that?" my mother questioned, looking around in alarm. Her eyes fell on me. "Surprise!" she cried.

"You're home early," I accused.

She dumped her bags and suitcases on the floor, allowing Michael and John to file in after her. There was another face that poked in through the doorway.

I gaped. _"Dad?" _

"This place is a mess," my mother commented, frowning at the stains on the rug.

"Right, no one worry about me," said Peter, standing up weakly and coming out from behind the door. "I'm just fine."

"Who's he?" my dad asked. It had been a while since I had last heard his voice. Although I loved him, my father's voice always got on my nerves because there was usually a pathetic whine to it…when he wasn't yelling, that is.

"That's Peter," I said, watching my father closely as he stepped into the light.

"I told you about Wendy's boyfriend," said Mum breezily. "I wish you had thought to clean up, Wendy," she added in my direction. "It looks like you had the whole city in here. What did I tell you about having parties?" She said this as a joke, but I cleared my throat conspicuously and glanced at Peter. He smiled in response.

"You let her stay alone with this boy?" Dad asked my mother, alarmed. "Do you _want _to be a grandmother this early?"

My face flushed angrily. "We didn't do anything!"

My father ignored this and instead set his eyes on Peter, pointing a finger at him threateningly. "You stay away from my daughter, you hear me? If you touch her, I swear I'll…"

"George," my mother soothed, setting a slim hand on his meaty shoulder. My eyes zoned in on her hand, shocked at her affection for my father. What on earth had gone on during the week that my mother had been in London?

Michael tugged on my sleeve. I glanced down at him absentmindedly. "We saw Nana," he told me matter-of-factly.

"That's nice, Michael," I told him, pulling my sleeve gently from his fingers. I looked back up at my parents, finding their willful companionship extremely abnormal.

"Wendy," my mother simpered, "your father and I have something to tell you." She paused for effect and I glanced at Peter nervously. "We've decided to work things out."

Most people would think this would come as good news. But to me, this was the worst possible thing I could hear. I had wasted enough years listening to them constantly bicker and I wasn't looking forward to any more.

"So, this weekend we're going to work on packing up," my mother continued. "We're going to go back to London. Isn't that wonderful?" The smile on her face looked unreal. Why should she be smiling?

If I felt numb, it was nothing compared to what Peter was feeling. Emotions flitted across his face: shock, anger, and finally, despair.

"What about Dad's girlfriend?" I asked, my words cracking. I thought I was about to cry.

"What girlfriend?" Mum asked, frowning, and giving my father an accusing stare. "You mean that Christine woman? That was over months ago, wasn't it darling?"

Dad cleared his throat. "Yes, months."

"What about school?" I added. "We can't just _leave_."

"We've enrolled you in a Catholic school near your father's apartment," Mum replied.

"A Catholic school?" I questioned, gaping at her. "Are you out of your mind? We're not even Catholic! You can't just make this huge decision without talking to me first. You were gone for a week. No, _less _than a week. Suddenly you two are back together? What the _hell?_"

"Wendy," my father growled in warning.

I fell silent, feeling the furious tears streaking down my cheeks.

"So that's it?" Peter croaked. My parents looked at him in surprise as if they had forgotten he was there. "There's no discussion? You're just going to take her?" His voice was steadily rising and suddenly he was yelling.

Yelling at my _parents._

Were boyfriends allowed to do that?

"You have a lot of nerve to be talking to us like that," my father bellowed at Peter.

"You _can't _take her away from me," Peter shouted, his hand closing around mine.

_"She was never yours to have in the first place," _my father snarled.

"George!" my mother cried frantically, trying to hold her husband-to-be back with her frail arms.

"Not now Mary!" he roared at her.

Throughout the confusion, I felt Peter tugging on my hand. He was leading me towards the door, roughly pulling me behind him. He let out a string of curses as he pushed me into the hallway, slamming the door behind him furiously.

"Where are we going?" I whispered anxiously, hearing my parents yelling after me as I sprinted alongside him down the corridor.

"I'm going to do it," said Peter impatiently. "I don't care what it takes; I'm going to Neverland. And I'm taking you with me."

--

**A/N: UGH! I hate being in IB. All this stupid homework stops me from being able to write for you guys. But at least it's a three-day weekend! Hehe :3 So yeah, let's see if Peter can get into Neverland, even though he said before that he wouldn't be able to. Cross your fingers guys. Oh, and leave a review on the way out. Thanks!**


	28. The Stairwell Declaration

**PETER'S POV**

There was no way I was letting Wendy get away so easily. She had so effortlessly opened my chest with her pale fingers to take out my beating heart, only to carelessly pocket it into her faded jeans, shrugging indifferently all the while.

She had forced me to grow up, despite myself, with her scornful manner and contemptuous eyes, laughing at my childishness. So I had changed for her. I had gone out of my way to save her countless times, banishing any thoughts of cowardice for _her. _I had done all of this so that she would look at me in awe. So that she would love me.

And her parents just expected her to _leave? _

I, Peter Pan, would never allow such a calamity.

"You're hurting my hand," Wendy complained, pulling me from my thoughts.

I glanced over my shoulder at her. Wendy's mouth was set in the pout I loved so much. Now who was the child? I couldn't help but smile to myself because I was pulling her along as if she were a disobedient ankle-biter in a grocery store.

Sighing, I loosened my grip on her fingers and slowed to a stop. I allowed her to catch her breath as I impatiently glanced down the stairwell for her parents. We hadn't taken the elevator because the Darlings would have seen that we were going up to the top floor, rather than to the lobby. Plus, we wouldn't come across many people taking the stairs.

Wendy sagged against the wall, her light brown hair clinging to her sweaty brow. She wiped her face with her sleeve and gave me a weary look. "I don't think this is a good idea," she told me with a twisted frown. "As charming as your description of Neverland sounds, it's no place for me. Besides, you said before you wouldn't be able to get back."

"If Chief Bigby was able to get there with Tiger Lily," I said stubbornly, "then I'll be able to get there with you too."

"Peter," Wendy said slowly, "this is pointless. How am I supposed to know that this place even exists?"

"I told you it exists," I said, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice. "Don't you believe me? It's beautiful, I promise you. There are mermaids and fairies and-"

"I don't believe in fairies," said Wendy shortly, cutting me off.

I fell silent. I knew Wendy couldn't have possibly known that her words were an immediate death sentence to one of those fragile beings back in Neverland. It was useless explaining this to her because it seemed as if she had been drained of all of her imagination.

"Don't you see?" I told her in despair. "You've already left behind your childhood without a moment's thought. Don't you want it back? I can help you, Wendy. Please let me help you." I didn't like begging, but just as Wendy had lost her imagination, I was beginning to lose my pride.

"This is ridiculous, Peter," she told me snappishly. "I'm tired of running. I want to go back."

Did she mean that literally or figuratively?

"I can take you back," I assured her. "You won't have to worry anymore, trust me."

"You know what I mean," she said, rolling her eyes. "I want to go back to my family. I may be furious with them, but I can't just abandon them. I'm not like you, Peter."

I winced, as if she had physically struck me. Wendy, of course, was referring to the times I had abandoned my friends, whether it be Hook or the lost boys. She was right, of course, but I wasn't giving up so quickly.

"So we won't stay in Neverland forever," I compromised, "but we can at least be together a little longer."

"Together?" Wendy questioned with mirthless laughter. "Peter, we were never really together to begin with. We are two very different people, and I'm having trouble keeping up with you. Do you _really_ think of us as a couple?"

"We fight like a couple," I told her, which earned me a smile. I loved it when she smiled. It was such an improvement from her derision.

"No, seriously," she said, trying to pocket her smile just as she did my heart. "Why is this so important to you?"

I meant to tell her when we arrived in Neverland.

I meant to tell her in some romantic lagoon with the gentle waves lapping at our feet.

I meant to tell her somewhere, anywhere, but in an empty stairwell of an apartment building.

But I told her anyways.

"Because I love you," I said.

Wendy blinked at me as if I had just grown an extra head. "You what?" she spluttered, as if she hadn't heard me.

Did she really want me to say those accursed words again? I opened my mouth to tell her, once more, that I loved her. She held up her hand to stop me.

"You can't possibly love me," she told me defiantly, after having recovered.

I gave her a small, supercilious smile. "I've been around a lot longer than you have," I pointed out, "so I'm pretty sure I know whether or not I love someone." My smile drooped slightly as I paused to think. Why had she denied the declarative statement of my affections? Well, there could only be one answer to that. "You don't love me," I clarified.

She hesitated. "Peter," she said slowly, "we've been through an awful lot together…"

This time I held up my own hand to silence her. "Say no more, Wendy," I told her. "I understand. I merely hoped…" I trailed off. Words were useless at this point. I shrugged carelessly as if it really meant nothing to me.

But she saw through my lie.

Her eyes seemed to lose their iciness and they looked at me sympathetically.

Oh, how I desired her mockery over her pity. Her scorn over her sympathy.

I turned away to hide my face, gripping the cold handrail with my pale hands. I gritted my teeth and said, "Wendy, I love you so much it'd make me want to turn my back on Neverland all over again."

I was greeted by her silence and I was too cowardly to turn around and look at her. I took this as a sign to keep talking. "You're a curse, you know that? Everything about you. First I think you hate me but just when you start to like me, you hate me again. You're destroying me, Wendy, and you don't even seem to care." This time, I couldn't keep my anger under control.

Anger gave me strength.

I looked over my shoulder at her. She was pressed against the wall, as if she were frightened of me. Her eyes were glued on mine and her mouth was twisted into a small frown.

Finally, she seemed to find her words. "I don't hate you, Peter."

Well, that's the closest thing to love that I'd ever get from her. I grunted and turned away from her again.

"I _do _like you, Peter. I…I just think this is a bad idea. Maybe me moving to London is a good move for the both of us." She paused, leaving a deadly silence, before saying, "Besides, you think of me as a curse after all."

I could hear the hurt in her voice, which calmed me. Exhaling my anger, I said, "You know I didn't mean that."

Wendy was suddenly right next to me, lifting my chin with her cool finger. She smiled, though there was no joy in her eyes. She looked…sad. "I think you did," she said softly. "And I think that should tell you something." She grabbed my hand. "I want you to take me to Neverland," she said and she started pulling me up the stairs again. "And we can say goodbye from there, and you can go on living like you did."

I bowed my head unhappily. Did she think it would be that easy? That I'd be able to let her go as if she had never existed? I shook my hand out of hers.

She spun around, looking injured. "What? Now you don't want to go? I thought you loved me." Her sudden smile was teasing and playful, but I saw the manipulation beneath it. She was playing me as if I were a marionette and she were my master, plucking my strings as she would a guitar.

Had she no shame? Or perhaps she unknowingly treated me like an ugly doll that one would come to play with only to torture when bored. Perhaps there was really just air behind her intelligent eyes and perhaps I read too far into her soul, when in reality, there was nothing there. Nothing but emptiness.

However, my feet involuntarily followed her up the stairs, despite my growing sense of dread. Her hand was back in mine and a smile was back on her face.

Yes, I would take her to Neverland, but one thing remained absolutely certain…

Wendy did not love me.

--

**WENDY'S POV**

I felt horrible. Even the prospect of visiting some far-off utopia couldn't ease my troubles. How could I allow Peter to love me when I was about to move halfway across the world?

_He could come with you, _the voice in the back of my mind whispered. _He would, if you told him to. _

_What about the lost boys? _I argued. _I'm not going to make him leave his only family for me. After all, I couldn't leave _my _family for him. _

_Ah, but he loves you, Wendy, _the voice reminded me slyly. _He said so himself. He would turn his back on Neverland, on his whole world, just for you._

_But I wouldn't do the same for him, _I thought miserably. His hand felt fake in mine. I felt fake.

The guilt weighed heavily on my heart as I continued to pull Peter up the stairs behind me. Why was I doing this? Why had I agreed to go with him to Neverland when I knew it would only make it harder on him? On myself?

We were on the roof before I knew it, and I looked up into the darkened sky. There were no stars out tonight. Instead, there were heavy rain clouds and I could smell the dampness in the air.

Peter tugged on my hand to let me know that we had to go to the edge of the building. Looking down on the busy street below made me feel dizzy. "Are you ready?" he croaked. I could hear the sorrow in his voice and I flushed with shame.

"What do I do?" I asked, feeling my palms sweating.

I could feel his nose touching my ear lightly. "You think of a wonderful thought," he whispered, as if lowering his voice could disguise his pain.

"Then what?" I asked nervously.

"Then we fly," he said, smiling into my neck.

His hand tightened in mine.

It was strange, because even though I had the impression that we were falling to our deaths, we somehow seemed to tear through clouds and whisk past stars. Stranger yet, there was only one "wonderful" thing that came to mind before he yanked me after him towards Neverland.

And that was Peter.

--

**A/N: Yes, this chapter was short in comparison to some others, but at least I didn't wait a year to update. So be happy. Hmph. (And review : D)**


	29. Déjà Vu: The End

**WENDY'S POV**

Silence.

It pressed in.

There was nothing except the dull beating of a heart. My heart.

I opened my eyes, wincing at the blue blaze of the overhead sky. The smell of pine hit my nose instantly as I forced myself to sit up. I calmly looked around, finding myself to be utterly alone. There was an imprint of a body in the pine straw beside me, as if Peter had only just been lying there.

"Peter?" I called, my voice coming out as inaudible as a whisper. Even then, my voice seemed to pierce the silence.

I found it strange that no birds called above from the treetops. There wasn't even any shuffling in the underbrush. _I must be in Neverland, _I thought dreamily.

"Peter?" I cried, louder this time. I struggled to my feet, feeling as if I had been sleeping a very long time. Stumbling groggily, I made my way through a small clearing of trees. The ground sloped a bit before abruptly cutting off, giving way to a still expanse of water.

Briefly forgetting about Peter, I chucked off my shoes and socks, rolling up my pant legs. I eased myself down the bank to the shallow water beneath. The water was warm and I could see little minnows flicking back and forth just below the surface. The little fish darted around my ankles, tickling my feet.

I smiled.

"Wendy," a voice called, breaking the silence.

I jumped in surprise, falling backwards onto my butt with a big splash.

Laughter echoed down from the bank and upon standing up, I could see that Peter was sitting down with his back up against a tree. I crossed my arms, oblivious to the water dripping from the seat of my pants.

"Where were you?" I demanded. "I was looking for you."

"I've been here the whole time," he told me with a shrug. "I didn't want to wake you. We flew a long ways."

"I don't remember falling asleep." I frowned.

"You nearly fell out of the sky," Peter told me cheerfully. Upon seeing my startled look, he added, "I caught you, though. Don't be alarmed."

I nodded silently, looking down at my distorted feet through the slightly turbid water. Seconds ticked by with neither of us speaking. Why did it suddenly feel so awkward?

"So," said Peter, after clearing his throat. "Do you like it? Neverland, I mean."

"It's quiet," I replied, not really answering his question.

Peter nodded.

"_Why_ is it so quiet?" I questioned.

Peter smiled. "We're the only ones here."

"Oh," I said.

"There's more life on the other side of the island, by the lagoon, but I figured this would be a good place for you to get some rest. And…when you're feeling up to it, I hoped we could talk." Peter stirred uncomfortably against the trunk of his tree.

"What's there to talk about?" I sighed.

"Well," he said slowly, "I guess about you leaving for London. And…and the fact that we'll never see each other again."

I sighed once more, coming up out of the water. I sat down on the bank with my back towards Peter, drawing my knees up to my chin. "Our last day together doesn't need to be so depressing," I told him, my voice muffled against my knees. "We can just have fun."

"If that's what you want," said Peter indifferently.

"Well what do _you _want?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at him.

Peter gave me a forlorn smile. "Don't act like you actually care what I want, Wendy."

"I care," I contradicted, annoyed.

Peter sighed before standing up and crossing the space between us. He sat down next to me, drawing his knees up to his chin just as I had done. "Are you going to miss me?" he asked.

I nodded. "I wish I didn't have to go. Or at least, I wish you could go with me. Heck, I wish I could stay here in Neverland and live happily ever after or whatever."

"Why don't you?" Peter pressed, his green eyes bright with hope.

"You know I can't. I'm not one of the lost boys you can just draw away into your fantasy world. The longer I live here, the more I'll forget about where I came from. I don't want to forget, Peter. I have a family. You might not have one, but I do. I can't just leave. I…I love you, I do, but…" I trailed off.

Peter looked at me, surprised at my words. But then his face fell again and he glanced away. "If you loved me, you would stay with me."

I scowled at him. "That's not fair, Peter. You shouldn't ask me to leave my family because you know I would never ask you to leave the lost boys. Never."

"I've left them before," he said softly. "I could do it again."

"No!" I shouted, louder than I had intended. "They need you. You're all they have ever known. God, Peter, will you just quit it? I've accepted that it's over, so why can't you?" I tried to keep myself from being angry, but it didn't really work. "You need to stay away from me, Peter, and you know it. If you don't want to grow up, then you shouldn't have to. I don't want to be the person to force you to do something you don't want to do."

"_I don't give a _damn_ about any of that!" _Peter roared, quick on his feet. His fists were clenched, and he was glaring at me with that wild look in his eye that I had only ever seen once before. "When I told you that I'd leave Neverland all over again for you, I _meant _it. Yeah, I'll miss the lost boys…but that's nothing in comparison to how I'll feel when I'll have to give up _you_. This isn't easy for me."

"What? And you think it's easy for _me?" _I shot back bitingly. I jerked my chin away from him, determined to look somewhere, anywhere, other than his anguished face. I took a deep breath. "How do you think I felt when you told me that it was _my _fault that you were becoming less like you and more like me? That you were weakening? That you were leaving behind your most favorite place in the entire universe just for me? Don't you think that would make me just the tiniest bit guilty? Huh? Don't you think that it's unfair for me to feel guilty for something that I have no control over? Well I don't _want_ to feel guilty anymore!"

"Please don't say that," Peter begged. "I don't blame you for anything. Please take that back."

I clenched my jaw. "I want to go home Peter."

There was a long silence.

"Okay," Peter said softly, holding out his hand to help me up.

I shook my head, refusing to take it. I stood up without his help. "No," I told him, feeling my voice crack. "I'm g-going home alone. Coming here was a bad idea. I want you to stay, and I want you to th-think about what I've s-said. When you g-go back, I'll h-have already left."

Peter grabbed my wrist but I twisted out of it, turning away from him and walking back through the trees. I wiped my eyes furiously with the back of my hand, speeding up my pace in case he was following me.

"Goodbye, Wendy Darling," he called, his voice barely audible.

I stopped in my tracks and looked over my shoulder. He hadn't followed me after all. He was still standing by the bank.

He was letting me go.

Suddenly everything seemed to hit me. This would be the last time I would _ever _see Peter. Him, standing alone by the water, would be my last memory. How could I possibly live with myself if I had to keep replaying that final look on his face as I walked away?

I took a step towards him. Then another step. And another. I unexpectedly broke out into a full-fledged run, crashing into his arms. I fiercely hugged him around the middle, burying my face into his chest. He did not wrap his arms around me; he merely stood there, his face angled down towards mine.

"G-Goodbye, Peter Pan," I sobbed.

And then I went home.

---

**PETER'S POV**

_One Month Later_

Captain Hook died today.

I heard about it on the news. Apparently, while at the zoo, Captain Hook's hook fell off into one of the animal pens. Thinking he could reach it with a toy rifle he stole from a nearby child, he leaned in over the railing. Unfortunately for James, he lost his footing and slipped, falling into the swampy territory of a hungry crocodile.

I wished I could have told Wendy about it, but she had left before I even went back to New York. Just as she'd promised. Why does Wendy always have to keep her word?

Anyways, if I hadn't chopped off the pirate's hand all those years ago, he wouldn't have fallen to his death.

Does that mean I killed Hook?

---

**WENDY'S POV**

_Ten Years Later_

"We're going to catch some late dinner, if you'd like to join us," Marie offered. There was something about Marie that reminded me of a girl I used to know in high school. Her hair poofed out in the exact same way, though for some reason the name of the girl seemed to escape me.

"Thanks, but I ought to be getting back. I'm a little tired," I told John's long-time girlfriend. "The movie was great though. You guys really didn't have to pay for my ticket."

"It was no problem at all," Marie insisted. "We haven't seen you in _months._ I'm so excited that you've finally decided to move back to the Big Apple. It gives me a new face to look at. God knows I'm sick of John's."

"Hey!" John exclaimed defensively.

I smiled. "Yes, well, thank you again. Tomorrow's a big day! I'm going to be apartment hunting until my feet fall off. G'night Marie. John."

"'Night, Sis," called John as he locked arms with Marie and stood up, pulling her towards the door. They thanked the bus driver and stepped down onto the curb, the door closing with a creak behind them.

I sighed and settled back against my seat, noting how unusually dark out it was that night. The eerie flickering of the bulbs overhead made me shudder, flooding me with a strange sense of déjà vu.

A thin, slightly handsome man unexpectedly sat down in the seat across from me, making me jump in surprise. I hadn't known that someone had gotten on the bus when John and Marie had gotten off.

A toothpick protruded from the stranger's lips. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said softly.

There was a long patch of silence as I scrutinized the newcomer's face, searching for some kind of familiarity. He leaned forwards into the light, and I could see that his hair was a little bit darker than I had remembered and his cheekbones were a little bit sharper. But his eyes…They were exactly the same.

"You grew up."

Peter smiled. "I did. So did you."

"But I thought…," I started with a frown.

Peter held up a hand to stop me. "I grew up because I wanted to."

I nodded, meeting his eyes. I stared at him a few seconds before looking away and saying, "It's been a long time."

"It has," Peter agreed. "A lot has changed. Did you know that Slightly ended up marrying that friend of yours from high school?"

"Kim?" I questioned.

Peter nodded.

"What of the other lost boys?"

"Oh, they're always around."

The bus shuddered to a stop. I sighed, glancing out of the window at the hotel I was staying at. If only I had more time. "Well," I said, rising to my feet, "that's my stop."

"How extraordinary," said Peter, a smile tugging at his mouth, "it's mine too."

_**The End. **_

---

**A/N: Yeah, so I'm pretty much the worst person in the world for taking 3 months, 3 weeks, 1 day, and 27 minutes to upload this fanfic. And I'm also the worst person in the world because I put up the last chapter. So basically you guys have been waiting 3 months, 3 weeks and…blah blah blah minutes to read ONE chapter. I'm sorry. I'm awful. I'm terrible. I should be shot multiple times in the toe. Please forgive me T.T Anyways, tell me what you thought of my ending. I think it ended fairly happily, even if I'm not exactly happy with it xD Thanks to everyone who kept faith in me and kept reading, even despite my revolting anti-updating habits. **


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